


The Torrid Affair of Kack Jelly and Kosher Dave from Manhattan

by WaitingForMy



Series: Andy & B’s Stupid Newsies RPs [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Antisemitism, Childhood Trauma, Everyone Has Issues, Gay Panic, Jack lovingly calls Crutchie ableist slurs, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rated M because we're the worst and we will inevitably get there, Sassy Crutchie, Suicidal Thoughts, The Delanceys are homophobic assholes, The sisters that write Newsies trash together stay together, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is an ongoing RP, Unrequited Ralbert and consolation Sprace, We have no outline, no plan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 78
Words: 262,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20086603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaitingForMy/pseuds/WaitingForMy
Summary: This is just a Javid in college RP.





	1. One of Several Uses a College Boy Has for a Napkin

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations! You have stumbled upon ANOTHER GODDAMN NEWSIES COLLEGE AU. This is an ongoing RP featuring my sister as Jack Kelly and myself as Davey, Crutchie, and Tommy Boy for about an eighth of a second. We have no clue where we're going with this, but knowing us, we may venture into some pretty dark territory so bring a flashlight. Without further ado, I humbly present The Torrid Affair of Kack Jelly and Kosher Dave from Manhattan, a Javid in college RP. I hope you enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations! You have stumbled upon ANOTHER GODDAMN NEWSIES COLLEGE AU. This is an ongoing RP featuring my sister as Jack Kelly and myself as Davey, Crutchie, and Tommy Boy for about an eighth of a second. We have no clue where we're going with this, but knowing us, we may venture into some pretty dark territory so bring a flashlight. Without further ado, I humbly present The Torrid Affair of Kack Jelly and Kosher Dave from Manhattan, a Javid in college RP. I hope you enjoy.

It was two weeks into the spring semester, and David was having trouble with that whole ‘you find your lifelong friends in college’ thing. After spending two years at Berkeley, David felt rather uprooted when he transferred to NYU. He’d left his lovely little dorm suite and suite mates in exchange for being squeezed last minute into a dorm already shared by two brothers. Here, he didn’t know anyone, he didn’t know where things were, and he didn’t know which professors to avoid. Still, a full ride scholarship is a full ride scholarship.

At the end of his Honors Literature class, he had been approached by an overeager freshman, who introduced himself as Elmer and invited David to join him and his friends for lunch. David had agreed, but was now regretting it as he sat at a table with three freshmen who were excitedly running through about five different topics of conversation all at once. They seemed like nice guys, but he could barely follow the conversation.

The short, brown haired kid who had been introduced as ‘Tommy Boy’ was telling a story about one of his high school theater productions, when another boy walked over and leaned against the table between David and the boy they were calling ‘Romeo’.

“Hey, so uh, my friend over there dared me to come say hi.” He nodded towards a booth in the corner, where a boy with mousy brown hair waved enthusiastically at them. “He bet I couldn’t get your number, and I told him he’s a dumbass for thinkin’ about picking up guys in the dining hall.”

David blinked at the stranger, relieved at the respite from Elmer, Tommy Boy, and Romeo’s fast paced conversation but also taken aback by the guy’s forwardness, a little offended that he was being bet on, and more than a little intimidated upon finding himself face to face with what was perhaps the  _ hottest _ guy he’d ever seen. The stranger had tan skin and deep brown eyes, dark, curly hair, and a stunning smile that lit up his whole face. Davey gaped for about three seconds too long before catching himself.  _ Say something, nitwit. _

“I don’t even know you.”

Ah, yes. Very smooth. David Jacobs, prince of seduction. A proper incubus, really. Someone call the producers of The Bachelor; we’ve got a real Casanova at NYU.

The boy laughed. “I know, that’s the point.” He extended his right hand towards David. “Name’s Jack Kelly.”

David’s cheeks burned. He wished for a wormhole to open up and swallow him and take him to another dimension where he had the social skills to interact with the likes of Jack Kelly. Reluctantly, he shook Jack’s hand. “David Jacobs.”

“Hey, Davey. Nice to meetcha.” Jack gave David’s hand a firm shake and glanced around at the three other inhabitants of the table. “So who’re your friends?”

“Oh. Um...” David gestured to the boys as he introduced them. “These are Romeo, Elmer, and Tommy Boy. I just met them—” He checked his watch. “—forty-five minutes ago?”

The three boys greeted Jack cheerfully, and Romeo kept throwing winks at David when he thought Jack wasn’t looking.

“Nice to meetcha, kids.” Jack turned his attention back to David. “So are you new or something? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“I just transferred from Berkeley, this semester.”

He nodded. “Oh interesting! Any special reason why?”

“I was...” Would it be bragging for David to say that he’d been offered a full-ride? Sure, he was proud of it, and yes, it was true, but did he really want to be known right off the bat as the smart ass? That’s what his roommates called him—smart ass. “...incentivized.” David averted his gaze.  _ That _ didn’t sound vague and bizarre or anything.

Jack blinked. “My condolences?”

Tommy Boy snorted. “I think he means he’s getting paid.”

“For school?” Jack’s eyebrows went up. “Damn, get me a gig like that, these saps got me payin’ them!”

That got a laugh out of David. “Not like that. It’s a scholarship.”

A smile flashed onto Jack’s face at David’s laughter. “Oh, so you’s gettin’ paid to be smart, gotcha.”

You’s? As in you is? Did David just hear a college student say that?

Choosing to ignore that little grammatical detail, he rolled his eyes. “I guess that’s one way to think of it.”

“Well, I guess that means you must be pretty smart, huh?”

Aaand he made David blush, again. “I guess.”

Noticing the color in David’s cheeks, Jack bit his bottom lip and his eyebrows darted up momentarily, his little smile twisting as he descended into full fledged teasing. “Nothin’ to be embarrassed about, Dave.”

“I know it isn’t,” David snapped, cheeks glowing even redder as he reigned what little temper he had back in. “It’s just that—...I—” He sighed, giving up on that sentence.

“Well, I should get goin’; looks like the missus is getting impatient.” Jack jerked his head towards that same corner booth, where the mousy haired boy was no longer sitting, but standing, leaning on a metal cane, and trying very hard not to look at David’s table.

Jack dropped his voice a tad bit lower. “So, uh, Dave, am I gonna win this bet or no?”

_ Yes _ . But no. No! Davey refused to be a part of some ridiculous,  _ offensive _ bet...but it didn’t take long, looking at Jack’s pretty, brown puppy eyes, for him to relent. He sighed, “Here.” He took a pen out of his backpack, jotted down his name and phone number on a napkin, and handed said napkin to Jack.

Jack’s grin could’ve lit up New York. “Alright.” He took the napkin and folded it carefully before sliding it into his pocket. “I’ll see you around, Davey.” He rapped on the table twice with his knuckles as he straightened up. “Boys.” He nodded to the rest of the table, and turned to walk back to the mousy boy. His voice was loud and theatrical as he crossed the dining hall. “Alright, alright! A minute without me is agony, I know. Keep your shirt on, I’m comin’.”

David tried to hide his smile as Jack sauntered off, all swagger and a very nice— _ ohmygod am I staring at his ass? Don’t stare at his ass.  _ After all, bet won, Jack would probably toss the napkin, and David’s information with it, on the way out of the dining hall

* * *

“So I was right? He’s totally gay?”

“Oh, toootally gay.” Jack nodded. He and his roommate, Charlie, were walking across campus towards their apartment. It was sort of slow going, what with Charlie’s bum leg and all. “I dunno if he’s on speaking terms with his gay, but it’s totally there.”

“How’d you get his number?”

“I asked nicely.”

Charlie laughed out loud.

“Listen, Crutchie.” Jack dropped an arm over Charlie’s shoulder and stopped walking, gesturing grandly with his free hand as he spoke. “I am  _ very _ charming. People have a hard time saying ‘no’ to me.”

Crutchie looked at Jack out of the sides of his eyes and gave a lopsided grin. “ _ No _ , they don’t.”

“Yes, they do!” Jack replied, indignant. He pressed a hand to his chest like a southern belle as they began walking again. “People  _ love _ me.”

“Mmhm.” Crutchie’s grin became a smirk. “So did you threaten him? Blackmail? Promise him a passionate night of wild—”

Jack quickly spoke over him. “I was the picture of a gentleman. I told him you dared me, and also that we had a bet that I couldn’t get his number.”

“Wonderful! So now I’m the creep who dares his best friend to prey upon innocent little freshman boys.”

“I don’t think he’s a freshman, though the kids with him are, for sure. Nah, he transferred from, uh, Berkeley I think it was?” Jack gave Crutchie a crooked smile. “And you’re not the creep who dares his best friend to pick up guys in the dining hall. You’re the creep who bets his best friend that he  _ can’t _ pick up guys in the dining hall.”

“Oh,  _ much _ better!” Crutchie laughed.

He stumbled slightly, and Jack grabbed his arm to keep him upright. He gave Jack a pointed look. Jack let go and held up his hands in surrender. Crutchie didn’t like being treated like an invalid.

“So,” Crutchie continued, pulling himself along on his cane a little faster, “was he as gorgeous up close as you seemed to think he was from across the dining hall, all starin’ and droolin’ like a stray mutt?”

Jack punched Crutchie’s shoulder good naturedly. “Nah, better. ‘N he’s real smart too, got a scholarship or somethin’.”

“Oh no,” Crutchie slammed his cane on the ground to punctuate his sudden stop. “He’s your type.”

Jack laughed. “It gets worse. I made him blush like, four times without even lifting a finger.”

“So you’re gonna text him, right?”

“No, I’m gonna use this napkin as wallpaper. Of course I’m gonna text him!”

“Good.” Crutchie muttered something else under his breath as he started forward once more.

“Hmmm, what was that?” Jack asked almost musically, cupping a hand around his ear and walking irritatingly close to Crutchie.

“Nothing.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, you’ll have to speak up.” Jack nearly tipped over sideways, he was leaning so far towards Crutchie.

Crutchie huffed and glared—glared? It was more like the look a disapproving mother might give her unruly child. “I said, ‘it’s about time’, Jack.”

Jack’s eyebrows scrunched and his mouth squiggled in confusion. “‘Bout time for what? ‘Bout time I hit on a stranger in the dining hall?”

“About time you pined over someone who isn’t Katherine.”

Jack cringed. “Yeah, it’s about time I got over that...and I wasn’t pining!”

Crutchie raised an eyebrow. “How do you explain your folder of ‘Drawings and Paintings of Kath Post-Breakup’, then?”

“Listennn,” Jack replied reproachfully, “it’s called cathartic release. I’m an artist, not a sack of cornmeal. I have  _ feelings _ .”

Crutchie held up the hand that wasn’t on his cane as a peace offering. “All I know’s you went from trying to bed everyone with a pulse to Katherine to not even looking at another girl—or guy—in a couple years.” He chuckled. “Well, ‘cept for the time you made out with Finch at that frat party you don’t remember. And suddenly, in waltzes Mr. Jacobs—”

“Ey ey ey ey! Alright, I get it. I been a little...unreliable...when it comes to romance, but that ain’t my fault! Like I says, I’m an artist. My life’s gotta be all poetic and tragic and all.”

“Well, you’ve got tragic for sure. I don’t know about poetic.”

Jack pouted. “Now you’re just being mean.” He opened the door to their apartment building, holding it open with his foot for Crutchie to walk through. “Elevator or stairs today?”

Crutchie considered for a moment, the space between his eyebrows creasing in thought. He sighed, and his face fell slightly. “Elevator.”

“Thank God.” Jack seemed to deflate slightly in relief. “Specs convinced me to workout with him this morning, and I am  _ whooped _ .”

Crutchie smiled, but narrowed his eyes as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to believe him.

Jack looked offended. “Would I lie to you?” He snickered, clapping Crutchie on the shoulder. “C’mon, ya dumb crip, while my legs can still hold me up.”


	2. In Which David Can Only Eat Special Meat and Jack Can Barely Hold It Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and David get to know each other a little better over soup and a sandwich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve decided to post each chapter as soon as we finish the next one. We just finished Chapter 3, so here’s Chapter 2 of our chaos.

The next morning, Jack found himself distracted. All through 2D Fundamentals he kept glancing at the side pocket of his book bag, where a specific napkin had been housed. In Advanced Portfolio, he slipped his phone out and grabbed the napkin, creating a contact for Davey Jacobs. Before he had a chance to compose a text, the professor walked past, and he had to drop his phone back into his bag. Advanced Topics in Printmaking always exhausted him, boring him half to death with the long, dry lectures. Professer Vandemar was too old to remember he had a policy about cell phones, so Jack spent about a third of the class typing and deleting dozens of witty openers, sleazy pickup lines, and stupid greetings. He finally settled on “ _ Hey, it’s Jack, from the dining hall yesterday _ .” He pressed send, and immediately dropped his face into his folded arms on the desk in front of him with a groan.

The reply didn’t come until a few minutes after class let out. “ _ Hey, sorry, I was in class. Good to hear from you again. How are you? _ ”

The instant his phone buzzed Jack pounced on it like a hyena. He grinned ear to ear, and quickly tapped out a response. “ _ No worries. I’m doing alright, didn’t die of boredom in Vandemar’s lecture today, just a light coma. How about you? _ ”

“ _ Not bad. Also bored in lecture. I actually took a class just like this one at Berkeley, but it didn’t transfer. What’s your major? _ ”

“ _ Studio Art, but I’m minoring in Art Business. What’s yours? _ ”

“ _ Right now, just English, but I’m thinking about switching to something a little more specific. _ ”

“ _ Not bad. Yeah, it’ll be easier to market if you’ve got a few more words on your fancy piece of paper. Too specific and you’re sunk, but too vague and they don’t want you either. _ ”

He quickly tapped out another message.

“ _ Speaking of wanting, you got lunch plans? _ ”

* * *

David fought his racing heart every step of the way to the deli Jack had recommended. This was stupid. He’d barely even met the guy. The guy got his number for a  _ bet _ and invited him to lunch. It wasn’t even a date! Not really. Still, he’d be kidding himself if he didn’t admit that Jack was very attractive and that he was very lonely. Worst case scenario, he gets someone to talk to over lunch.

Well,  _ worst _ case scenario, Jack drugged and kidnapped him and sold him into sex slavery, but Jack didn’t seem the type.

David found the place pretty easily. He couldn’t decide if he was disappointed that Jack hadn’t arrived yet or relieved to have a moment to gather his thoughts. He sent a quick text message to Jack, “ _ I found it. I’ll get us a table. _ ”

It wasn’t a date. So why did it feel like a date?

David’s phone buzzed almost immediately. “ _ Be right there, sorry. I got held up by some adoring fans. _ ”

Cocky little sonofa— David rolled his eyes and settled into a booth in the corner.

The day had been slightly overcast to begin with, and as the afternoon came on, the sky had darkened. It was on the edge of raining when David found the deli, and not a moment too soon, for only a few minutes after he settled in his booth, the sky opened up and poured down. It had been a slushy spring so far, and today was no exception. Four and a half minutes later, the tin bells above the door jangled as the door was quickly opened and closed again. Jack made a rather soggy entrance, and David could easily hear him apologizing to the man behind the counter. His eyes quickly scanned the room, and a crooked smile darted onto his face when his eyes caught David’s.

David would never understand how someone could look so good while also looking like a drowned rat. “Did you walk here?” he asked as Jack approached the booth.

He nodded, wringing water out of the grey newsboy cap he had been wearing, but stopped, cringing as he looked over his shoulder at the man behind the counter, who was now holding a mop and scowling.

“Yeah,” he said, sliding into the booth opposite David. “Wasn’t that far.”

“But you knew it was going to rain.”

Jack shrugged. “Ehh, y’never know anything for sure.” He looked up and over his shoulder at the chalkboard high on the wall behind the counter that displayed the day’s menu.

“Anything look good to you?” He asked as he continued to scrutinize the chalky scrawling on the board.

David shrugged. “I’m not that picky, beyond kosher. I’m thinking soup.” He glanced out the window at what had to be freezing cold rain. “It seems like a soup kind of day.”

He could have punched himself in the face.  _ It seems like a soup kind of day? _ Might as well write “I’m an insufferable dweeb who has never interacted with an unrelated man in his life” on his forehead. In Klingon.

There was that smile again. Jack nodded, still looking at the board. “A soupy kinda day...” He said quietly, chuckling a bit. “I can get behind that. There’s a pretty good selection here. I dunno what’s kosher or not, but the minestrone’s real good.”

At least he didn’t seem too put off by David’s devastating awkwardness, or he was just too polite to show it. Jack seemed like the kind of guy who always had the charming thing to say. David almost groaned. Not fair. He forced a tight-lipped smile and concentrated on relaxing his shoulders. “I think I’ll get the vegetarian soup, just to be safe.”

Jack nodded, turning back to face David. “Probably smart, cause you got that whole kosher thing. That means no meat, right? Or is it only special meat?”

David laughed. “Only special meat.”

Jack grinned and one of his eyes seemed to twitch a little. “Gotcha, good to know.” He drummed his hands on the table briefly. “Ready to order then? We gotta go up to the counter.”

David nodded. “Sure.”

As they got in line to order, David found himself running through a million possible questions in his head. He wanted to know more about this mysterious Jack Kelly, but he didn’t know where to start. “So, Jack...” he began with no ending in mind, hoping he would find it along the way. He didn’t.

“Mm?” Jack shifted slightly towards David, eyebrows mildly raised in curiosity.

“Where are you from?”

Not bad. Not the absolute worst start. David was proud of himself.

“Manhattan, born and raised. Well,” he let out a dry chuckle. “Not ‘raised’, but born for sure.”

David almost asked what he meant by that, but it sounded like a sore subject, so he let it be. “Yeah? You like it?”

Jack shrugged. “It’s not the dream, but it works. How about you, where are you from?”

“Same, actually.”

He laughed a little. “What a small world.” At this point they had reached the front of the line at the counter. Jack ordered himself a sandwich and paused, looking at Davey. “And what were you gettin’ again?”

David glanced at Jack, then back to the man behind the counter, then back at Jack. “I can pay for myself,” he offered.

Jack tilted his head to the side, smiling. “Mmm, that doesn’t sound like a menu item to me.”

David stared at Jack in complete disbelief while the lady behind the counter burst into laughter.

Jack flashed a devastating grin at her, eyebrows briefly darting upwards playfully. “C’mon Dave. What, you said soup, right? Vegetable soup for this soupy kinda day?”

Wow, okay, what an asshole. Davey set his jaw. “Yeah, that is what I said.”

Jack was grinning like a jackass (heh). A pretty jackass, but a jackass nonetheless. He pulled a ragged wallet out of his back pocket to pay for lunch.

“Thanks Stacy,” he smiled winningly at the lady behind the counter as he grabbed the sandwich and soup laden tray and turned to head back to the booth.

Davey sat down with a huff. “So what now? Am I indebted to you for the soup?”

Jack gave a short, squinched up smile. “I mean, if you want? I didn’t think it was any sort of thing.” He moved his wax paper wrapped sandwich from the tray to the table in front of him.

Davey carefully retrieved his soup, watching Jack like a hawk. He couldn’t figure him out. Not that he was particularly great at figuring people out, but Jack Kelly was definitely something else. It frustrated him, but...he liked it?

“So, what did you win?”

“Hm?” Jack already had his mouth full of sandwich.

“The bet. You won, didn’t you?”

“Mm!” Jack nodded, chewing and swallowing before he continued. “There wasn’t really a plan for like, a prize or whatever. Besides, your number was reward enough.”

“Oh,” David eloquently responded. Wait...did Jack find him attractive?

Jack quietly snickered, and continued eating.

“What?” David asked.

Jack shook his head. “Nothin’. So how are you liking NYU so far?”

“It’s...it’s not bad.”

The soup, on the other hand, was great. Davey would definitely be coming back to this place.

“Oh high praise indeed.” Jack laughed. “Alright kosher Dave from Manhattan. Tell me somethin’ else aboutcha.”

“I promise, I’m not that interesting.”

“I dunno, you seem pretty interesting.”

“Well...” Dave set down his spoon to think and folded his hands on the table. “I’m twenty. I’m Jewish, but you knew that. I’m a twin.”

One of Jack’s eyebrows went up and he cocked his head slightly to the side. “A twin?”

“Yes?” Davey eyed Jack suspiciously.

“Identical?”

“No.”

He nodded. “Okay cool. Wouldn’t wanna be that dumbass that ends up continuing a conversation with the wrong twin or somethin’.”

Davey smiled politely. “You /are/ having a conversation with the wrong twin.”

“Wait  _ what!? _ ”

“I just mean my twin is cooler than me.”

Jack put a hand to his heart. “Jesus, Dave, don’t scare me like that.”

David’s smile grew. “The other twin goes to a fancy little private school in Texas and is called Sarah. Don’t worry.”

“Ooh, Texas. Fancy.” Jacked chuckled. “Y’know I’ve always wanted to move down South.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

He shrugged, suddenly very interested in the sticker that had held the wax paper closed around his sandwich. “Oh y’know, lots of space, fresh air, big life in a small town, that sorta thing...”

“Big life in a small town, huh?” David repeated. He hadn’t expected an answer like that. “That sounds nice.”

Jack smiled sheepishly and shrugged dismissively. “It’s kinda dumb, I know.”

“It’s not dumb! I really think it’s nice.”

Jack’s eyes darted to Davey’s face and then back down to the table, and he couldn’t help but smile. He muttered quietly enough that he apparently thought David couldn’t hear him. “Yeah well I think your face is nice.”

David choked on his soup.

Jack continued at a normal volume. “Yeah, gotta have somethin’ to dream about, but it’s not realistic.”

David blinked, coughing gently. “We’re not going to talk about that?”

Jack glanced up at him. “Talk about what?”

“You said—”

Now it was Jack’s turn to blush as he scrambled to find something reasonable to say. “Uhh, I said that I think Santa Fe is nice.”

David knew Jack didn’t say Santa Fe, but he didn’t feel like correcting him and unpacking everything that came with what he really said. “Santa Fe, huh?”

Jack nodded quickly. “Yeah for sure. Wide open spaces, cattle farms, all sorts ‘a stuff.”

“I’m not sure Santa Fe has many cattle farms these days,” David said  _ before _ concluding it was a dick thing to say.

Jack paused a beat, and his face fell, but he was smiling again almost before Davey had even registered the change in energy. “Eh, either way. Better there than here, y’know?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been there.”

Jack’s smile was clearly strained. “I’ve never even been outta New York.”

David couldn’t believe that. “Never?”

Jack shook his head. “Not even for a minute.”

“Not even to New Jersey or Connecticut?”

He shook his head again. “Nope.”

“Wow.” David sat back and tried to imagine never leaving New York. “That’s...pretty crazy. Why not?”

Jack awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Never really had the extra cash to do any travel.”

David smiled. “Well, I’ll tell you what—you bought me soup, I’ll buy you a bus ticket to Jersey.”

Jack properly laughed at that. “Sounds like a fair trade to me.” He propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin on one of his fists. “I got a better idea, though.”

Alarm bells went off in David’s head, or perhaps that was just his body going into fuck or flight mode from the sudden change in proximity to Jack. “What is it?”

“You could let me take you out to dinner.”

David wished he could digest the swarm of butterflies in his stomach. “You want to do that?”

It’s not that David had low self-esteem, per se. He just knew that gorgeous, confident men like Jack Kelly tended to go for gorgeous, confident men and women, not—as Jack so eloquently put it—Kosher Dave from Manhattan.

A corner of Jack’s mouth lifted into a crooked little smile that could knock you right off your feet. “I wouldn’t’ve asked if I didn’t.”

Davey chewed on his bottom lip while he looked for any sign on disingenuousness in that smile. “What’s this about for you?” he asked. “I mean, you only asked for my number on a dare, for a bet.”

“I wouldn’t say that was the only reason.”

Oh. David didn’t know what to make of that. He liked Jack, or at least he thought he did; it was awfully soon to tell. He definitely liked  _ looking _ at Jack. So why would he hesitate? Hell, he didn’t know, but there he was, hesitating, blushing like a fool and poking at the green beans in his soup with his spoon.

Jack leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if you’re not interested, it’s totally fine, don’t worry about it. No hard feelins or nothin’-“

“It’s not that!” David assured him  _ way _ too quickly. “I’m just surprised is all.”

Jack smiled again, vaguely baffled. “Surprised? Why?”

“Because...” Davey almost laughed at himself in exasperation. Because what?  _ You’re hot? _ He gestured vaguely across the table. “You’re...you know. And we just met yesterday. And we barely know anything about each other.”

He cocked his head, fully grinning now. “I’m what?”

Davey glared. “You know what you are.”

He laughed. “I’m a lot of things, sweetheart, I was just wonderin’ which one you meant. As for barely knowing anything about each other, I know you’re Jewish, and ya grew up in Manhattan, just like me. I know you went to Berkeley, you’re an English major, and you’re smart enough to get paid to go to school. Also you have a twin who’s ‘cooler than you’.”

David stopped listening after the first sentence. “Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?”

Jack burst into short laughter. “Yeah, I did. ‘S that alright with you?”

Yes. No. Absolutely...not. Maybe? David looked away, thoroughly embarrassed. “I have a brother, too.”

Jack bit his lip, trying to fight his grin down into something more reasonable. “Oh yeah? What’s he do?”

David ran his fingers through his hair. “Besides drive me crazy? He’s in eight grade.” He smiled, thinking about his kid brother. He and Les were close. “Do you have any siblings, Jack?”

Jack’s smile stayed exactly where it was, but his eyes seemed to hollow out a bit. “No...no I don’t.”

“Must have been peaceful.” Davey forced a laugh.

Now the smile fell, and Jack looked downright uncomfortable. “Ehh, not particularly...”

“Okay,” David said quickly. “Well, um...tell me—”  _ literally anything else, anything to change the conversation. _ “—about your art. You said you’re a studio art major?”

Jack nodded, happy to throw himself into this new topic. “Yeah, I mostly paint, and I draw. Been doin’ it since...” He exhaled in that noisy way that people do when they’re trying to remember something. “Well, as long as I can remember.”

David couldn’t help but smile at that. He always loved listening to people get excited about things. “You must be really good, then.”

Jack laughed. “Oh, I dunno about that.”

“What kinds of things do you draw?”

He shrugged. “Whatever holds still long enough.”

David laughed. Okay, so he liked Jack.

And there was that smile again. “Birds is the hardest, not very stationary.”

“And you’ve never been out of New York. What’s there to draw besides pigeons?”

Jack laughed. “Exactly! That’s the problem. Santa Fe’s got all those great landscapes and stuff, those don’t have a habit of flyin’ away.”

David nodded. “I bet you’ve drawn a lot of buildings.”

“Oof. More than anyone would ever want.”

“How many times have you drawn the Empire State Building?”

Jack looked towards the ceiling, muttering as he counted on his fingers. He hit seven and gave up. “Too many times.”

“Brooklyn Bridge?”

“Even more.”

David leaned forward and fixed Jack with an intense look. “Statue of Liberty.”

“Actually, I’ve avoided that one so far,” he laughed. “I prefer drawing real people.”

“Real people don’t hold very still,” David said. “If you can draw a person, I bet you can draw a pigeon.”

Jack chuckled. “People can be bribed easier than pigeons.”

“Can they?”

He nodded. “For sure. I mean it depends on the person, and I guess on the pigeon...”

David finished his soup, and he had one more class to get to. He would have to get going, but first: “Okay, I’ll make you a bet.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack was grinning again.

“Yeah.” David stood up and pulled his book bag onto his shoulder. “If you draw me a pigeon, I’ll let you take me out to dinner.”

Jack laughed. “Alright, you got it.”


	3. Cheese Puffs and Herpes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David is sleep-deprived, Crutchie is oblivious, and Jack is a dumbass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve totally dropped the call on replying to comments, but I am reading them and relaying them to my sister, and they make our day. We’re glad you’re enjoying our trash.
> 
> Feat. my sister as Sarah and Lauren and myself as Chelsea, and as usual, my sister as Jack and myself as Davey and Crutchie.

David sat outside his dorm room, reading. He loved reading. His love of reading led him to choosing an English major. His English major was quickly leading him to a life of never reading again. His eyes hurt. He wondered if he needed glasses. Could the student health center help him with that, or would he have to make an appointment with an ophthalmologist? And was that even necessary? If he didn’t have to read so much for class, surely he’d be fine.

He closed his book and tossed it to the side. Combine the headache with the fact that he’d fled his room—or, rather, his two obnoxious roommates—_again_, and it was quickly turning into a pretty shitty night. He reached for his laptop, which thankfully he’d thought to bring with him to the hallway, flipped it open, and pulled up Skype. What time was it? Ten? Yikes, that was kind of late. Then, David remembered that ten o’clock in New York is nine o’clock in Texas, and he clicked Sarah’s contact to start a video call. The ringer blipped three times, and a somewhat pixelated image of his sister popped up on the screen.

“Hey Dave, what’s up?” she greeted him cheerfully.

“Not much, just taking a study break. How are you?”

“I’m alright.” She stretched. “Just got out of a tutoring session. Freshmen get dumber every year I swear.”

David gasped in faux shock. “But your school’s acceptance rate is lower than it’s ever been, Sarah! Didn’t you see the Facebook post? And the one before that? And the one before that?”

She laughed. “Shut up.” She readjusted her screen before continuing. “So how’s the new school?”

David cringed. It had been easy enough to lie to Jack, but Sarah... “Honestly? Not great.” David sighed and dragged a hand down over his mouth. “Not _ bad_, I guess, but weird. I’m having to retake some things that wouldn’t transfer, and I don’t really know anyone, and—“ He nodded towards his door and typed “ _ My roommates kind of suck._” into the chat bar.

She offered a sympathetic smile. “It’s ridiculous that those credits didn’t transfer. You’re a perfect model student, they could just hand you your diploma right now and it wouldn’t be any different.”

David chuckled. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“Yeah okay you’re not _ that _ smart. But still.”

He rolled his eyes. “And how are things outside of school? Are you still seeing that guy from, uh, that school across the street with the weird name?”

“Sort of? We’re still talking, but we aren’t, like, going out.”

“Hm. Were you ever?”

She wiggled her hand, motioning ‘kind of’. “We went out a few times.”

“Right. What was his name, again?”

“Frank Donoghue. But enough of my stuff.” She waved a hand dismissively. “What’s fun? What’s new? There must be something other than your roommates sucking.”

David almost laughed at how quickly she changed the subject. It was really nice, just talking with Sarah. It was normal. It was something that hadn’t changed when David switched schools. She was a constant, since literally before they were born.

“Well, this freshman from my Honors Lit class invited me to lunch at the dining hall with his friends yesterday, and I actually went to this really good deli for lunch today.”

He didn’t know why he didn’t mention Jack, the way he mentioned Elmer. It’s not like he had to tell Sarah how hot the guy was, and he wouldn’t. He actually had never come out to his family. He wasn’t ready. Mentioning a guy he found very, very attractive made him nervous. What if he slipped up and said something?

“Hey, good food, good start!” Sarah replied. “I’m glad you found someone to go to lunch with. I told you it wouldn’t be long before you found yourself a group there.”

“Well,” David laughed, brushing through his hair with his fingers and grimacing when he found it tangled, “I don’t know if they’re my group. They’re nice, but Sarah, oh my god, if you think _ I _ talk a lot.”

She laughed. “Well at least you’re talking to _ some _ people, instead of just calling me all the time.”

“Hey!” David cried out in mock offense.

He should tell her. He shouldn’t be keeping things from Sarah of all people. He should tell her about Jack. He should tell him about _ himself._

“There’s actually someone I, um...” he began.

Sarah leaned back and turned to look to her left. David could hear distant shouting on her end. After a moment she shouted as well. “What do you need? I’m busy!” More shouting, and Sarah rolled her eyes, looking back to her screen. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

And, as he had done in every conversation with Sarah since he was fifteen, David chickened out. “Nothing.”

“Okay, well I should probably go. Apparently my roommate blew something up in the microwave.”

“Oh my god, yeah,” David laughed. His roommates may have been jerks, but at least they weren’t stupid.

In lieu of ‘goodbye’, Sarah said, “Five bucks it was a can of soup,” blew a kiss at the screen, and closed her laptop, cutting off the video feed.

David sighed and let his head fall back against the wall. He missed her. He missed Les. He missed his parents. He didn’t live all that far from Les and his parents, they were still in New York, but they’d moved upstate a few years back to send the kids to a better school. Certainly not close enough to pop in for dinner or help Les with homework.

He could hear his roommates arguing about something through the closed door and opted to stay in the hall. He had to read two more chapters, anyway.

* * *

Jack groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. It had been four hours now, and he still only had the head done. Sitting on the campus green, motionless except for his right hand and his eyes, Jack had hoped that the pile of shredded bread and corn chips four feet in front of him would be enough to lure a pigeon or two into relative stillness, at least long enough for him to capture a likeness in his sketchbook. His plan was semi successful. He had lured pigeons alright, but they were definitely not still.

An amused snort from behind him made him jump, and suddenly Crutchie was _ fwump-_ing to the ground next to him. “What are you doing?” Crutchie asked. “You look like you’re trying to split atoms.”

Jack gestured frustratedly in front of him as the pile of pigeons scattered, disturbed by Crutchie’s entrance. “I’m _ never _ gonna finish this.”

Crutchie grinned. “You...into birds, now?”

He waved his pencil dismally at the slowly returning pile of birds. “That kid from the dining hall, Dave, he said I could take him to dinner if I draw him a pigeon. But the damn things won’t sit still!”

“Oh.” Crutchie nodded. “So..._he’s _ into birds, then.”

Jack laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe he thinks it’s an impossible task and that way he’s spared the trouble of breaking my heart.”

“Do you think that’s what he’s doing?”

“I hope it isn’t...”

“Well, what did he say?”

“I said I wanted to buy him dinner, and he was all surprised and thought it was a joke or something. And then he said if I drew him a pigeon I could take him out.” Jack shrugged.

Crutchie pursed his lips to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Okay, but _ how _ did he say it?”

Jack flopped slightly. “Whadaya mean ‘how’?”

“You know! Did he deadpan it or laugh or did he roll his eyes or—”

“I dunno, man. We was jokin’ around, and then he said he had to go, and he got up and said I can buy him dinner if I draw him a pigeon.”

Crutchie took Jack’s sketchbook out of his hands and studied his meticulously drawn, disembodied pigeon head. “Wow. I mean, it’s good.” He handed the sketchbook back. “It’s _ really _ good. You’re clearly putting a lot of effort into this.”

“I always put effort into my work,” Jack huffed.

“Not what I meant,” Crutchie chuckled, offering up his palms in a peace-making gesture. “I just mean, well—” He flopped back into the grass. “—you only just met the guy. He worth all the extra effort?”

Jack paused, thinking. _ Was _ he worth all the extra effort? Crutchie was right, they had only just met, he didn’t really know that much about this guy. He was pretty, Jack knew that much at least.

He shrugged. “I dunno, but does it matter? The chase is still the chase, no matter how it ends.”

Crutchie opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off by a soft, “Hi, Charlie. Hi, Jack.” He tilted his head back to address a blonde freshman and her green-haired companion with a warm smile. “Hey hey, Lauren and Chelsea, what’s up?”

The blonde smiled a rather shy, but bright smile. “We were looking to get some lunch. Chels noticed you guys over here in the grass, and said we should come say hi.”

“Yeah, a’ course!” Crutchie sat up and turned to face them. “It’s always good to see you two. How’s second semester treating you, Laurie?”

A barely noticeable flush of pink spread across her cheeks. “Less overwhelming than the fall, for sure. Plus I’m out of the dorm and in the Pi Beta Phi house now, so that’s a nice change.”

Jack had paused his drawing and lamenting to look up and over his shoulder at the two girls.

Chelsea leaned into his line of sight, freshly dyed green strands falling away from her head, revealing three star-shaped earrings. Where Lauren was all soft lines, round cheeks and button nose and a honey-sweet smile, her “big” sorority sister was eyeliner as sharp as a needle, a classic resting bitch face, and a wicked smirk. “Earth to Jack Kelly, ya’ with us?” she asked, raising one perfectly trimmed eyebrow.

“Yeah, hey hi, how’s it going?” He offered with that signature crooked smile of his. 

Lauren, meanwhile, was still talking to Crutchie. “How about you, Charlie? How’s your semester so far?”

“Good enough,” he replied, shoulders sagging slightly. “I miss tutoring, though. I really liked it, getting to meet all you guys.”

“You were a really good teacher!” Lauren said enthusiastically. “You were always so patient and nice.”

Chelsea side-eyed her little and stifled a laugh before giving Jack a look as if to say, “Can you believe her?”

Jack just shrugged, unsurprised by these fond words for Crutchie. The boy was a goddamn angel.

“Weeelllll,” Chelsea drawled in a fake southern accent before switching back to her native East Coast nothingness, clapping her hands in front of her. She tossed an arm over Lauren’s shoulders. “I’ve gotta get this child some lunch. You guys could come with if you wanted...?”

Crutchie looked to Jack.

Jack looked to the pigeons.

With a shrug he flipped his sketchbook closed. “I’m not making much progress anyway.”

Both girls smiled, though Chelsea distinctly smiled at Jack and Lauren at Crutchie.

“So,” Crutchie leaned on Jack as he stood, “Where are we headed?”

* * *

After a somewhat awkward lunch, Jack and Crutchie parted ways with the girls and headed to the library. Jack needed to study for Advanced Critical Thinking, and Crutchie just liked being surrounded by books.

The two were holed up in a corner of the 8th floor, having laid claim to an enormous beanbag chair—more of a beanbag couch really. Jack had a rather large and rather boring book splayed open in his lap and a bag of cheese puffs next to him. Rather than reading, he was tossing cheese puffs at Crutchie, sitting opposite him on the beanbag, who was trying to catch them in his mouth.

“Okay but you see that Lauren has a thing for you, right?” Jack said, clapping his left hand down on his right wrist and launching a cheese puff into the air.

Crutchie scoffed, “Sure.”

“Oh come on,” Jack bounced a cheese puff off Crutchie’s forehead. “It’s obvious.”

“She’s a perfectly cute, sweet freshman girl. What’s she gonna want with a junior biology tutor who walks with a cane like a geezer?”

“You’s a perfectly cute, sweet junior boy!”

“Whatever.” Crutchie threw a stray cheese puff that had fallen by his side back at Jack. He missed, and instead hit a student exiting a nearby cubicle.

Jack glanced over his shoulder with a cringing smile, beginning to apologize. “Ey sorry about tha—” He stopped short as he recognized the student. “Dave, hey!” In an instant, Jack was beaming.

A very startled and confused David Jacobs removed his headphones and glanced back and forth between Jack and Crutchie before cracking a shy smile. “Hi, Jack. Hi...we haven’t actually met. Um—”

Jack gestured to his favorite cripple. “This is Crutchie. Well, Charlie, but everyone calls him Crutchie.”

“_ You _ call me ‘Crutchie’.”

“I call him Crutchie.”

“Oh.” Davey nodded minutely. Looking somewhat like a deer in the headlights and somewhat like the same deer after getting hit and killed by a truck.

“You’ve uh...ya got a bit of cheese dust on your forehead...” Jack said guiltily, brushing at his own forehead with his index finger as a means of illustration.

“Oh,” Davey repeated, nodding again. Then his eyes widened. “Oh!” And he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

Jack laughed, vaguely concerned and confused. “You alright there, Dave?”

Davey winced. “I slept, maybe, thirty minutes last night? My roommates are jackasses.” The latter sentence came out in a grumble, and he blushed and looked down. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say that.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he chuckled. “Whoa, tell us how you really feel.”

“I’m really sorry,” Davey assured him, wringing his hands together.

“I’m just teasin’ Dave, relax.” Jack was smirking now. “So roommate problems, huh? Y’know I can relate to that.” He stuck his tongue out at Crutchie.

Crutchie just rolled his eyes and took a cheese puff out of the bag when Jack turned away.

“Well, ah—” Davey stammered, and suddenly a look that was pure deer in the headlights crossed his face. His whole body, really. “You guys are studying. I’ll leave you alone.” He adjusted his book bag on his shoulder and made to scurry off.

“No no, stay,” Jack insisted. “Hang out, relax for a bit. Throwing cheese puffs hardly counts as studying.”

Jack scooted across the beanbag towards Crutchie, making room for Davey. Davey hesitated, and Jack responded by slapping the beanbag next to him and saying, much too loudly, “Come on, Dave, put ya’ tush in the cush.”

Crutchie, suffering from stage four secondhand embarrassment, hid his face behind his hands. Davey hesitated for another long, uncomfortable moment before sitting down on the beanbag next to Jack.

Jack grinned with not a drop of shame running through his veins. “So how’s it goin’?”

A wan smile. “Do you want me to be polite or honest?”

“Oh, always honest.”

Davey sighed, sinking into the beanbag. “I hate it here. I’m exhausted. I miss my family. I don’t have any friends. I’ve never felt more alone.” He raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Glad you asked?”

“Well,” Jack began. “We can help you with one of those. Maybe two.”

Davey groaned and fell back against the wall. “Thanks, but I don’t need your charity.”

Jack waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t do charity. You said you got no friends, well now you got two. And friends look out for each other. As for the other stuff, we’ve got a couple hideouts around campus that are good for power naps between classes. I can’t really help with the family thing, though.”

“We can be your school family!” Crutchie suggested brightly.

Jack grinned, giving Crutchie an affectionate punch to the shoulder. “Hell yeah we can.”

Davey smiled and opened one eye to look at them. He laughed. “You’re both crazy.”

Jack smirked. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Davey boy.”

“You’re right.” Davey closed his eye and shifted impossibly deeper into the beanbag. His head lulled a little to the side.

Jack looked at him silently for a moment, and bit back a giggle when the teeniest snore escaped from Davey’s mouth. He gestured to Crutchie to keep quiet, and after another short glance at Davey, he actually began to study.

He studied for about five minutes before Davey fell onto his shoulder, which proved to be a serious distraction. Ten more minutes, and Davey had somehow ended up in fetal position with his head in Jack’s lap. Many thoughts were flashing through Jack’s head, and he grabbed onto the least complicated of which was “where am I gonna put my book?” He was far too preoccupied by the pretty boy with his head in his lap, but he could at least pretend he was still trying to study.

Crutchie covered his mouth with a hand to keep himself from laughing and waking Davey up. “Set it on the floor, dimwit,” he whispered back to Jack.

“Well I can’t reach the floor, can I?” Jack retorted.

“You’re such a baby.” Crutchie took the book from Jack and set it on the floor before checking his phone. A fiendish grin spread across his face as he looked at the screen, before tucking it into his backpack.

Jack knew that look, and he knew it meant no good. “Oh no...what?”

“Nothing.” Crutchie stowed his books and used his cane to pull himself to his feet. “It’s just that not everyone is lucky enough to have their afternoons free from class, so I guess it’s just you and Sleeping Beauty, now.”

Slight panic set in behind Jack’s eyes. “What? No no no no don’t leave! What if he wakes up and thinks I’m a creep? No, you gotta stay!”

“You could wake him up.”

Jack simply sputtered.

“Right.” Crutchie tossed Jack a wink. “Well, I gotta get to class. I’ll seeya later.

“Oh, and Jack?” There was a twinkle in Crutchie’s eye. “I like him. I do hope he’s worth the extra effort.”

“You get your ass back here.” Jack hissed, but Crutchie was already walking away. He groaned, slumping back against the wall. It was five o’clock, the eighth floor was nearly empty, there was a very cute boy asleep in his lap, Crutchie had abandoned him, and now his book was out of reach so he couldn’t even _ pretend _ to study.

He looked down at Davey’s sleeping face, and couldn’t hold back a soft smile. He really was quite pretty. Jack began to gently run his fingers through Davey’s hair, but stopped, cringing. God this was going to look so creepy when Davey woke up. Desperate for an alibi, he very carefully attempted to reach down and catch a hold of his book on the floor to drag it closer.

Davey frowned in his sleep and wiggled a little when Jack’s slight movement put him in an uncomfortable position, but fortunately—unfortunately?—didn’t wake up.

Jack froze, and then relaxed once Dave had stopped moving again. A small group of girls walked past at this point, and smiled at the two of them. One looked at Dave in Jack’s lap, and covered her mouth to whisper something to the others. They giggled, and continued on past. Jack groaned, and began to reach for his book again, moving even slower this time. His fingertips brushed the cover, but not nearly enough to get any friction to drag it closer along the low carpet. After a bit of useless swatting and flailing, Jack gave up and leaned back against the wall again with a huff. He looked down at Dave again. God this was going to be so awkward when he woke up.

Davey sighed lightly, looking disgustingly peaceful and comfortable. His lips were parted slightly, and one hand had been deposited on Jack’s knee while he wasn’t paying attention.

Jack let his head slump back against the wall, exhaling something between a whine and a groan. He liked this boy. Now, liking a boy wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in the life of Jack Kelly. However, Davey seemed...different. As he had this thought Jack wrinkled up his face at how young-adult-novel-romantic-subplot that was of him. “_ This one seemed different, _” honestly, of all the silly—

Jack froze again as Davey began to shift around.

Davey’s eyes blinked open. He looked out into the library, then squinted at the floor, then looked up at Jack, then sat up way too fast. “Holy shit, I’m sooo sorry,” he slurred, still barely awake it seemed.

Jack jumped slightly at the sudden flurry of movement, then awkwardly laughed, blushing a tiny bit. “Oh, no, nothin’ to be sorry about, it’s all good.”

“You should have woken me up. I’m so sorry, I—“ Davey cleared his throat. “This is weird. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. You probably think— Well, I don’t even know,” he rambled on, showing no signs of stopping.

“Whoa whoa slow down, kid.” He chuckled, struggling to keep hold of his casual demeanor. “It’s fine, really. People nap on me all the time. I’ve been told I have a comforting presence.”

“You do,” Davey said. A furious blush spread across his cheeks. He appeared to be gritting his teeth.

Jack bit his bottom lip, trying to keep his smile at a reasonable level. “Well thanks, Dave. I’m glad you think so.”

Davey was the picture of discomfort as he glanced at Jack. “Well, thank you. For letting me sleep, I mean. I needed that.”

Jack nodded. “For sure, naps are important.”

After a brief silence in which Davey caught his breath, Davey looked around and frowned. “Where’s Charlie?”

“Oh.” Jack glanced at the vacant spot on the beanbag. “He had to go to class.”

“Oh.” Davey’s gaze met Jack’s for way too long before he looked away.

Jack awkwardly scratched the back of his head, for once completely unsure of what to say.

“Well, thank you again.” Davey met his eyes again as he stood up and retrieved his book bag. “And I’m sorry...again.”

Jack smiled. “No problem, any time.” His face locked up the way one’s face locks up when one realizes they just said something painfully stupid.

Thank god, Davey smiled and laughed, blushing again. “You know, it’s kind of funny—I never saw you for three weeks, and now I’ve seen you three days in a row.”

Jack shrugged. “Over the holiday break Crutchie said that I’m kinda like herpes. Once ya catch me, I’m not gonna go away.”

Dear God what was he saying?

Sure enough, Davey’s smile turned a little forced at that. “Heh. Well.”

Okay, strike “forced,” insert “terrified.” 

“My friends back home always said I was inevitable.”

“Inevitable sounds a lot better than herpes.” Jack was cringing now. “Hey, idea, what say we pretend this conversation stopped before I compared myself to an STD?”

Davey looked less terrified and laughed some more. “Yeah, okay. It’s a deal.”

“Good, good.” He paused, yet again unsure of what to say. It was a very rare thing for Jack Kelly to be at a loss for words, yet Davey had managed to be the cause twice now.

Luckily, Davey filled the silence. “You’re a nice guy, Jack. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad you and Charlie made a stupid bet on me.”

A warm smile spread across Jack’s face. “You’re not too bad yourself, Davey.”

Davey mirrored his expression. “I should go,” he said, but Jack noticed he didn’t sound too eager.

“You got somewhere to be?”

“Not really.”

Jack shrugged. “You’re welcome to stay. Crutchie abandoned me, and God knows I won’t get anything done if I’m left on my own.”

Davey looked at Jack, then away, as if weighing his options. He quickly dropped his book bag off his shoulder and sat back down on the beanbag. “And God knows my roommates won’t let me read in peace in my room.”

Jack struggled to keep his smile at a reasonable level. “Guess that makes us study buddies.”

“Guess it does.”

“So how good are you at catching cheese puffs in your mouth?”

Davey sighed with his book halfway out of his book bag before slowly lowering it back in. “Let’s find out.”


	4. We Struggled to Name This Chapter Before Deciding to Call It George

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Delancey Brothers are jerks, the boys go on a date, and Crutchie gives Jack sass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feat. my sister as The Delancey Brothers

David was  _ this close _ to calling his parents and begging to transfer back to Berkeley, or to Trinity with Sarah, or to drop out of college completely. Literally anywhere but NYU. Anywhere but his dorm room.

Why Morris and Oscar Delancey weren’t in a fraternity, he would never know. They certainly played the part. They went to all the parties. They drank and fought and said really horrible, crude things about the girls they met there. Exactly one month into the semester now, David had been sexiled once by each of them. He happened to know that neither of them had a steady girlfriend.

On this particular evening, they had gotten around to talking shit about some poor guy named Anthony who was, as they so eloquently put it, a faggot and a “twinky slut.” David wanted to knock them both into next week, but there was no way he could hold his own against one Delancey brother, let alone two.

David’s phone buzzed once, twice, three times in his pocket.

Grateful for a distraction from his homophobic roommates, David retrieved his phone, expecting a string of messages from Les. The kid typed too fast for his own thoughts, sometimes. Instead, it was Jack’s name on his screen. David blinked a couple times in surprise. He hadn’t heard from Jack in a couple days, since the library incident, and he had reluctantly accepted that Jack had probably moved on to another conquest. He opened the chat.

The first message was a single word: “ _ Done _ ”

The second was a picture. It was an impressively detailed pencil drawing of a very fat, very angry pigeon.

And finally: “ _ I’ll pick you up at 7:00. _ ”

David couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He did it. The crazy kid actually did it. And damn, that drawing was incredible! David would have accepted a little cartoon. Jack had clearly put a lot of effort into that. For  _ him _ . David’s heart skipped a little at the thought. He just hoped his roommates wouldn’t notice him acting all giddy.

But, of course, they did.

“What the hell are you giggling at?” Morris asked, staring at David from his desk pushed against the opposite wall.

David almost groaned out loud. “Nothing,” he said, returning his phone to his pocket. “Just a text.”

“Musta been a pretty funny text,” Morris persisted.

Oscar rolled his eyes, but snickered, clearly amused by his brother’s rather childish bullying.

David fixed Morris with a glare. “Yeah. Inside joke. What do you care?”

Morris held up his hands in a mockery of surrender. “I just wanted to know what was so funny. It’s rude to exclude people.”

“Right, sorry,” David deadpanned, adding under his breath, “It’s rude to call people ‘fags’, too.”

“Whatwasat?” Oscar joined the conversation from his top bunk on the back wall.

At this point, David’s anger and annoyance finally bubbled over. “I said it’s not nice to call people ‘ _ fags _ ’, Oscar,” he snapped, and he immediately regretted it.

There was a moment’s silence as the Delancey brothers stared at David, and he felt oddly akin to a field mouse being circled by a pair of hawks.

“Well it also ain’t nice,” Oscar replied, dropping off the bunk. “To listen to conversations you ain’t a part of.”

“Whadda you care, anyway?” Morris joined. “Anthony a friend of yours? You a fag too?”

David swallowed hard. “I don’t know who Anthony is.” He glanced back and forth between the brothers, anxiety growing by the second. Why did he always have to go and run his big mouth? “And what would you care if I was a—” He choked on the word. “...if I was gay, huh? It’s none of your business.” He kept his answer hypothetical on purpose.

Morris stood up to move by his brother as Oscar started to walk over to David.

“Well cause it ain’t right, Dave,” Morris replied. “Guys with other guys, it ain’t right.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” David asked, getting up from his desk and backing away, panic rising. Was it silly to be afraid? He had no idea what these two were capable of.

“Didn’t your mom teach you right and wrong, faggot?” Oscar approached David, getting way too close for comfort.

“Hey, I never said I was...” Davey held up a hand to stop Oscar from getting any closer.

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch me you piece of shit,” Oscar hissed.

David pulled his hand back as if Oscar had burned him. “I didn’t do anything!” he protested. “What are you guys doing?”

Oscar had his lips pulled back in a snarl, and opened his mouth to answer when there was a knock on the door. There was a breath in which no one moved, and then Morris went and cracked open the door. Their RA was standing in the hall with an awkward smile.

“Hi Morris, can you and Oscar chat for a second? We’ve had a couple noise complaints in the past few days...”

David avoided what was bound to be a very audible sigh of relief and shoved his way around Oscar. “I have somewhere to be, anyway,” he mumbled, heart still pounding. He grabbed his phone, room key, and wallet and practically ran out the door, only slowing down when he made it one floor down. It wasn’t that cold; he could wait for Jack outside.

He did his best to calm himself down while sitting on the bench outside the dorm. He’d never been cornered for being gay, before. Maybe he should talk to the RA, tell him he didn’t feel safe rooming with the brothers. Or maybe he poked a bear when he knew he shouldn’t have, and he should just be more careful in the future. Maybe Oscar was right; he shouldn’t have been listening to their conversation. Then, of course, there was the itsy bitsy fact that Morris and Oscar had reacted to the possibility of him being gay the way he feared his family would. So much for calming down. Was this what they called gay panic?

After a good twenty minutes, his phone buzzed again. It was another text from Jack. “ _ Hey...I’ve realized I don’t know where to pick you up from. _ ”

David quickly texted back the name of his dorm, too shaken up to draw any amusement from Jack’s lack of attention to detail. He received a thumbs up emoji, and about ten minutes later, Dave spotted Jack coming down the sidewalk. It had been a gorgeous day, but it was still February in New York, so Jack had a beat up brown leather jacket on, and a dull blue scarf. He looked amazing, as usual. David still couldn’t believe he of all people caught Jack’s eye. The man could have anyone in New York, David was sure. He forced himself to smile. He had to put this nonsense with the Delancey brothers behind him.

“Hi, Jack.”

Jack’s smile warmed Dave right down to the tips of his toes, despite the chilly wind. “Hey Dave, how’s it goin’?”

“Polite or honest?”

“Always honest.”

Wow, David hadn’t expected to get choked up about it, but his voice had a distinctly tight and reedy quality when he told Jack, “I really, really hate my roommates.”

Jack quickly sat down on the bench next to Davey, concern knitting his eyebrows. He moved as if he was going to put his arm around his shoulders, but stopped before he got even halfway there. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?”

David shook his head and took a shaky breath. “Nothing for you to be concerned about. Where are we going?”

“Now, hang on. You seem real upset. That’s absolutely something for me to be concerned about.”

Davey chewed his bottom lip, debating whether to tell Jack and how much. “They were...saying some really bad things.”

“Like what?” He seemed honesty worried.

David groaned. Jack really was so damned sweet. He didn’t want to burden him with his own drama.

“If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine. I don’t wanna push or anything.” Jack hesitated, and gently placed his hand on top of David’s. “If you need anything though, I’m here.” He squeezed his hand, and then quickly moved his hand away again.

It came out of David’s mouth before he could stop it; “They called some kid Anthony a fag and I just...” He sighed. “I guess I outed myself? I didn’t actually  _ say _ that I am, but...” He trailed off.

Jack’s eyes widened a bit. “Ah. Right.” He was quiet for a moment. “Do not a lot of people know? Is that what you’re worried about? Or is it your roommates in particular, or...?”

“Not a ton of people, no.” David sighed. “Not my family, and definitely not those assholes.” He nodded back towards the dorm building.

Jack nodded minutely. “Gotcha. You worried they’re gonna spread it around?”

“That’s the least of my worries,” David muttered, remembering the way they’d cornered him.

Jack nodded again. “Alright. You wanna share what those worries are?”

Davey ran a hand through his hair. He had known Jack, what, a week? Not exactly the person with whom to share all his worries and fears. No, that should be Sarah...

...but it couldn’t be Sarah.

“They can be a little...” How did he put this? “...physically imposing?”

It was like someone had clicked off the light switch behind Jack’s eyes. All the warmth and twinkle was gone, and his entire face hardened. “Did they threaten you?”

David frowned. Had they threatened him? He certainly felt threatened, but what had they said, exactly? “Not explicitly.”

Jack stood up. “Right. What were their names, again?”

“Morris and— Hey, wait. Jack, sit down.” He tugged on Jack’s sleeve.

Jack remained standing, but didn’t pull away. “Morris what?”

David stood next to him. “Jack, come on. It’s not a big deal. I’m gay. It sort of comes with the territory.”

“Being threatened by your roommates isn’t in the handbook.” Jack shook his head.

“I told you, they didn’t threaten me.”

Jack sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Okay, look—you’re right, it’s none of my business. But if you don’t feel safe around your roommates...that’s not right.”

“I’ll be fine,” David assured him with a smile that he hoped looked genuine. “I’m more worried about this Anthony guy.”

“Mm, I wouldn’t be too worried. If it’s the Anthony I think it is, he’ll be more than fine.”

David relaxed at Jack’s comment. “Is he a twinky slut? That’s what they said.”

Jack laughed. “He’d be proud to know his reputation is spreading.”

David broke into a real smile. “So. Where are we going?”

“How do you feel about Mexican food?”

“I feel great about any food that doesn’t come from the dining hall.”

Jack laughed. “Agreed. There’s a place not too far from campus. I hope you don’t mind walking? I don’t really have the spare change for the bus or an Uber...” He looked somewhat embarrassed by his lack of funding.

“I don’t mind at all,” David told him.

Jack nodded, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “Alright then. Should only be about a twenty minute walk...”

“Good.” David unconsciously mirrored his stance. “Because for someone who is taking me out to dinner, who has bought me lunch and drew me the most ridiculously detailed pigeon, who I have  _ napped _ on I might add, I really know very little about you.”

Jack snickered. “I dunno; sounds to me like we’re already pretty close.” He gently bumped his shoulder against David’s. “What do you wanna know?”

David thought about it out loud. “Well, I know your name is Jack Kelly, you’re a studio art major, you’ve never left New York, and you’re an only child.”

Jack nodded.

“I guess, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-three. How old are you?”

David smirked. “I think I told you that at the deli. I’m twenty.”

“Did you?” Jack cocked his head to the side. “Huh...”

“Okay. So I know your name is Jack Kelly. You’re twenty-three, you have a bad memory—“

Jack laughed. “Alright, alright. What else?”

“Well, if you’re twenty-three, I would assume you’re a senior.”

He nodded, mouth twisting up in that little smile of his. “Ding ding, give the boy a prize.”

“I think my prize is getting to have dinner with you,” David said before he could stop himself. He became very interested in the sidewalk.

Jack laughed (Author’s note: The “oh a smart girl huh” laugh). “I mean if that’s all you’re asking for, that’s easy enough for me.”

“How’d you meet Charlie?” David plowed on, much more comfortable asking questions than dealing with his own increasingly undeniable crush on this boy.

Jack’s step faltered for half a second, and then he continued as before. “We uh...” He cleared his throat. “We were in the same group home.”

“Oh.” David nodded. “Right. I had sort of assumed you met here.”

Jack shook his head. “Nah. Graham-Windham, by the Flatiron District. I was 9, he was 7.”

“And you stayed in touch all these years?”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t really staying in touch. We both kept getting sent back by foster families, so most of the time we were in the home together. When I aged out at eighteen, I got him signed as my dependent, and took him with me.”

“That’s incredible,” David said, more than a little awestruck. He couldn’t believe he ever took Jack for just some fuckboy.

Jack squirmed a little, driving his hands even deeper into his pockets. “I couldn’t a’ left him. We’s brothers.”

That made David’s heart ache. “Yeah, I get that.”

There was quiet for a moment as the two kept walking.

“What else d’you wanna know?” Jack prompted.

To be honest, David was a little afraid to ask any more questions, but he did it anyway, trying to pick something that could not possibly encroach on Jack’s tragic backstory. “What’s your favorite color?”

Jack laughed. “Dave, it’s fine. I don’t mind talking about it. I’m sure you’re all curious, so feel free to ask whatever you want.”

“I don’t really know what to say,” David admitted.

Jack shrugged. “I like blue.”

Huh. How about that? “Me, too.”

Jack chuckled. “Must be fate.”

David saw the opportunity and took it. “Do you believe in fate?”

Jack shook his head. “Life ain’t that easy. Happiness don’t just fall in your lap, if there’s somethin’ you want, you gotta get it yourself.”

“You seem like the type to do just that,” David said. He noticed that he and Jack had fallen into step with each other. He did nothing to change it.

Jack shrugged just one of his shoulders. “I’m tryin’.”

David hummed. “And what, pray tell, does the great Jack Kelly want?”

Jack bit his lip, looking at Davey and then quickly looking away. “A lot of things. Right now though, mostly empanadas.”

David chuckled.

Something had been bothering him since he’d met Jack, however. This seemed like a good enough time to address it.

“Why me?”

Jack’s eyes darted to David’s, and this time he held his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, of all the people in the dining hall, all the people who you could be baring your soul to right now, why me?”

“Well, to be fair, Crutchie picked you, so really you should ask him.” He winked, smirking.

“Right.” That actually stung more than David care to let on, but he smiled through the pain. “But you went along with it.”

“Yeah, he’s always had good taste.” Jack chuckled. “Usually knows what’s best for me better than I do.” A sort of weight settled behind Jack’s eyes as he was looking at David. His gaze seemed more...intentional, more meaningful. “I didn’t think you would actually give me your number. But I’m sure glad you did.”

David snorted. “Like you’ve ever had trouble getting someone to give you their number.”

He laughed. “Yeah okay, I’m irresistible.” Jack took a beat before continuing. “No but seriously. I was honestly nervous. You’re smart, and collected, kind, clever. ‘Course I didn’t properly know that till we’d been talking. But even just saying ‘hi,’ you seemed different.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair and sort of twisting his torso away as if trying to physically dodge the words he had just spoken. “Gah, I sound like an idiot.”

“You sound sweet,” David said sadly. He wondered who ever made Jack ashamed of that. He grabbed his hand without thinking. “Jack.”

For a split second, Jack froze, but then he closed his hand around David’s, and he fell back into step. “Yeah Dave?”

“You’re special,” David told him, hoping against all hope it would sink in, because Jack deserved to know. “I know that probably doesn’t mean a lot coming from someone you met a week ago, but I just know it, okay?”

Jack smiled softly, and squeezed David’s hand. “Thanks Davey.”

_ Davey _ . No one had ever called David that before Jack. He liked it. “Yeah. Any time.”

* * *

It was about one in the morning when Jack unlocked the door to his apartment and slipped inside as quietly as he could. So far he hadn’t been able to wipe the grin off his face, and he didn’t really mind it. He carefully shut the door, making sure to hold the handle turned so the latch didn’t engage with it’s usual  _ chunk _ . He placed his keys carefully in the chipped bowl sitting on the ledge of the low wall that separated the main room and the kitchen, and tip-toed his way across the carpet towards the bedroom. 

Most of their friends thought it was kind of weird that Jack and Crutchie shared a one bedroom apartment, but after their years in the group home, sharing a room with just one person seemed like nothing, and sharing with each other was second nature. Besides, they had set up folding dividers to separate the room into two halves—though most of the time they kept them folded up, anyway.

No sooner did Jack enter the bedroom than Crutchie’s bedside table lamp flicked on to reveal, of course, Crutchie, sitting up on the side of his bed, looking as amused as humanly possible. “Hello there.”

Without a second of hesitation, Jack dropped into a ridiculous, wide-legged stance, knees bent at near right angles and arms held straight out to the side, pinwheeling at the elbows as he replied in a deep and raspy voice. “General Kenobi!”

Crutchie threw his head back and laughed heartily at the display.

Jack grinned, standing up again. “What are you still doing up?”

“Making sure you’re not dead! Six hours? Either the kid’s got some serious stamina, or he broke your heart and you’ve spent the last four hours at the bar drinking away the pain.” Crutchie quirked an eyebrow and smirked. “And you don’t look drunk.”

“Calm down, Casanova; it was just dinner and a walk in the city.” Jack crossed to his side of the room and flopped down on his back on the twin bed in the corner. “Nothing happened.”

“For six hours!” Crutchie repeated.

“Whaddaya want from me? We had dinner and went on a walk! Walking takes time!”

“I want you to tell me everything,” Crutchie said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Jack groaned good naturedly, wiping a hand down his face. “Fine, ya nosy crip.”

The next twelve minutes were filled with Jack giving Crutchie the cliffnotes of his evening with Davey.

“At one point he asked how we met...”

Crutchie waited a moment for Jack to continue. “...aaand did you tell him?”

Jack nodded. “Not everything, but I told him about Graham-Windham, and how you’re my dependent.”

“ _ Was _ your dependent, jerk. I’m twenty-one.”

“You’ll always be my baby!” Jack wailed, grinning a shit eating grin.

Crutchie beamed a pillow at him. “ _ Anyway _ .” It was his turn with the shit eating grin. “You gonna take David out again?”

Jack shrugged, failing to fight down a flush of red across his cheeks. “If he’ll let me.”

“You didn’t ask him!?” Crutchie practically shrieked in horror.

Jack sat up, looking at Crutchie wide eyed. “Was I supposed to??”

“Ask if you could see him again? Yes! If you want to see him again!” Crutchie sounded so exasperated.

Jack had the pillow Crutchie threw at him hugged to his chest, and buried the lower half of his face in it. “I’ve got his number, I thought I’d just text him...” He mumbled.

Crutchie rolled his eyes. “At least  _ call _ him with your  _ voice _ .”

Jack groaned, flopping back again. “I always get so tangled though! I say such dumb things when I talk to him.”

Crutchie looked absolutely  _ delighted _ with this information. “Oh no.”

Jack draped one of his arms over his eyes like a swooning southern belle. “If I look at him it feels like my tongue gets too heavy and I can’t get the words right.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I never kid about my tongue.”

Crutchie gagged. “Eewww.”

Jack laughed. “Oh shut up.”

“You  _ like _ him,” Crutchie teased. “Jack Kelly, you have got it bad.”

He growled, biting back a smile. “Watch it, or I’ll gimp up your other leg.”

“I dare you. Then you’ll have to push me around in a wheelchair.”

“It’ll be a great conversation starter. Get me ‘nice guy’ points, too.”

Crutchie giggled and curled up in his bed. “As much as I love being threatened with bodily harm, I’m going to sleep. You’ve kept me up late enough, loverboy.”

“Don’t forget this.” Jack chucked the pillow across the room at Crutchie.

The light clicked out, and he changed into a pair of blue plaid pajama pants in the dark before sliding into his bed. Jack smiled. Crutchie had been there for him most of his life. He was the biggest reason Jack had kept going through those miserable years. His smile faltered as he wondered at what point Dave would decide his baggage was too much. He could just not tell him, but then that wouldn’t be fair to Davey.

Jack sighed, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyelids. If this actually went anywhere, he’d  _ have _ to tell him. Jack had always had a soft spot for people like Davey Jacobs—beautiful, smart, independent. As his thoughts spiraled through various imaginary, Davey-centric scenarios, he slid further and further from consciousness till he was deep asleep.


	5. Work, School, and Almost Getting a Boner for Your Ex-Girlfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically exactly what the chapter title says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feat. my sister as Elmer, Tommy Boy, and Romeo and myself as Katherine

David liked Elmer, Tommy Boy, and Romeo. They reminded him of Les: Bright, talkative, and ambitious like you wouldn’t believe. That being said, getting roped into lunch at the dining hall with all three of them again was not ideal for his sanity. Tommy had just declared his major—dance—and was staunchly defending his choice against Romeo and Elmer’s arguments.

“It’s  _ so _ hard to land a steady career in that field!” Elmer was saying. “It’s like winning the lottery—”

“Yeah,” Romeo interrupted. “But the lottery doesn’t leave you behind if you break your ankle!”

And David agreed with everything they said, but he found he couldn’t stand by and watch Tommy Boy’s dreams get crushed. “I think it’s great, Tommy. We don’t focus enough of the arts, these days.”

Tommy Boy gestured emphatically at David. “ _ Thank _ you. I know it’s a competitive field, but my teachers have always said I’ve got what it takes. And sure it’s a young man’s game, but once I stop touring and performing, I could be a choreographer, or even go into teaching!”

Elmer and Romeo rolled their eyes, but they stopped pestering their friend about his major.

David addressed the two of them. “Any idea what you’re going to major in?”

Romeo shrugged, preoccupied with picking all the peas out of his stir fry. Elmer launched into a debate with himself about the pros and cons of political science vs. journalism. David nodded along, actually a little impressed at how much thought the kid had put into it.

When Elmer somehow got off on a tangent about a documentary about fire ants he watched as a kid, David discreetly texted Jack under the table. He actually felt a little weird about it, and he realized he had never actually been the one to text Jack first, and he had no idea what to say. He just wanted to talk to Jack. Interesting?

He settled on a simple, “ _ Hey, how are you? _ ”

By the time David got a reply, the boys had moved from discussing majors to talking about how awful the food on campus was. Romeo was talking about the injustice of cauliflower as a rice substitute when David’s phone buzzed.

“ _ Hey Davey, not too bad, how about yourself? _ ”

David couldn’t help but smile brightly. Shit. He was becoming infatuated fast.

He was too occupied with typing out a reply that he didn’t notice the conversation die down until Romeo gave him a knowing smirk.

“Whatchu smiling at?” he drawled, clearly seeing the phone in David’s lap but choosing to make him say it.

Tommy Boy snickered. The three freshmen had become quite fond of David rather quickly. But of course they showed their affection through light bullying and mockery.

“Heh. Um...” David rubbed the back of his neck in the universal masculine symbol of embarrassment. “You guys remember that guy from last week?”

“Yeah?” all three chorused, grinning like stupid little sharks.

“Well, he sort of took me on a date the other night, and—”

There was a cacophony of “oh shit”s, “hell yeah”s, “get it Dave”s, and other such enthusiastic encouragements.

David laughed. “So yeah, anyway, I’m texting him.” He also finished his reply to Jack. “ _ Honestly, I’m well. _ ”

“Ooooh! What are you guys talking about?” Romeo cooed. Tommy Boy clouted the back of his head with a rolled up napkin.

“Don’t be an ass, let the man breathe!”

Usually Jack’s replies came almost instantly. Today, that was not the case.

“I’m just asking how he is,” David said. “No big deal.”

“Mhmm, sure.” Romeo was all wiggling shoulders and eyebrows. Elmer groaned, rolled up the booklet outlining majors in his hand, and joined Tommy Boy in his attack.

David rolled his eyes and waited for Jack’s reply, choosing to ignore the teasing. Sarah had told him something about that from her studies in psychology, about ignoring behavior to make it go away.

Either Sarah was right, or the boys had short attention spans. Either way, they were already discussing plans for a Super Smash Bros. tournament.

Finally, David’s phone buzzed again. “ _ Glad to hear it. So what’s the Davey Jacobs agenda for today? _ ”

“ _ Eating lunch with Elmer, Tommy, and Romeo, then reading, reading, and more reading. You? _ ”

“ _ I’m gonna be up to my elbows in fryer grease for the next four hours, and then I’ve got class till 8:00. _ ”

Huh. It had never even occurred to David to ask Jack where he worked, if he worked. He just assumed he was a full-time student, like himself. “ _ Where do you work? _ ”

These replies actually came quickly, one right after the other:

“ _ lol _ ”

“ _ I work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights at an auto shop on the east side, and then Tuesday and Thursday mornings and afternoons at the Brooklyn Diner—which is actually in Manhattan, not Brooklyn. _ ”

“ _ Wow _ .” David replied quickly before adding another message. “ _ When do you sleep? _ ”

“ _ Sleep is for the weak, and also for the weekends. _ ”

Elmer was trying to build a tower out of ketchup cups.

“ _ Well, you’re stronger than me, for sure. _ ”

There wasn’t another response till the boys had finished lunch and David had left the dining hall. He was walking towards the library when the next text arrived.

“ _ Sorry about that, the boss showed up, and we aren’t supposed to have our phones out in the kitchen. _ ”

David felt a twinge of guilt. “ _ No worries. You’re boss is probably right. You don’t have to text me right now. _ ”

“ _ I’m always happy to get in trouble for a worthy cause. _ ”

Dave could practically feel the wink that would be accompanying those words, had they been speaking in person. He wondered if Jack could feel his eye roll.

“ _ Has anyone ever told you that you’re a flirt? _ ”

“ _ Me? A flirt? Never. _ ”

“ _ Yes, a flirt. A complete egomaniac. _ ”

“ _ I have no idea where you’re getting these crazy ideas. _ ”

David looked up just in time to avoid running into a lamppost. He opted to sit down on a bench, instead. He had a little time to spare before his next class. “ _ How’s work? Do you like it? _ ”

A few minutes passed again before the next message arrived. “ _ I like the paychecks. The grease burns, not so much. _ ”

David should not have been nearly this interested in grease burns, and he knew it. “ _ Ouch _ .”

“ _ My reflexes have gotten a lot faster since I started working here, and at the auto shop, too. _ ”

David tried to imagine Jack, the sweet, kind-hearted artist, working at an auto shop. He shouldn’t have. It was pretty hot.

“ _ But when you graduate, you’re going to be an artist, right? _ ”

“ _ That’s the dream. _ ”

“ _ You’re really good. _ ”

“ _ You ain’t seen much art, have you? _ ”

David huffed out loud. “ _ I’ve seen enough. _ ”

“ _ I’m teasing. I’m sure you’ve had a lot more opportunities to see exhibits and stuff than I ever have. _ ”

“ _ And I’m telling you, you’re really good. _ ”

“ _ Well I guess I must be really good, then. _ ”

“ _ Thank you. _ ”

A few minutes passed and Davey’s phone buzzed again. “ _ Hey, sorry Dave, a crowd just came in, and we’re getting busy, so I gotta go. Wouldn’t want to accidentally fry my phone and try to text through a chicken tender. _ ”

David laughed. He typed, “ _ Good idea. Text me later? _ ”

He cringed. Was that too desperate?

He deleted the second sentence and replaced it with “ _ I’ll talk to you later. _ ”

He waited a bit for a reply, but one didn’t come.  He tucked his phone back into his pocket and headed to his next class.

* * *

7:59 lasted what seemed like eons as Jack sat on the edge of his seat, staring at the clock as the second hand ticked closer and closer to the 12. 8:00, and he was out of his seat and out the door. He took a deep breath of the cool evening air, and shrugged his jacket a bit closer around his shoulder. It had been a long, stupid day, and he just wanted to get home, take a shower, and crash. He mumbled a “Sorry” as he basically shoulder-checked a fellow pedestrian and took a couple more steps before a painfully familiar voice behind him said, “Jack?”

He froze. If he didn’t turn around, he wouldn’t see her. If he didn’t see her, he could pretend she wasn’t there. If she wasn’t there, he could just go home.

Jack turned around, plastering his fakest and most charming smile across his face. “Kath, hey!”

She looked great, as always. Probably a lot better than Jack after the long ass day he’d had. Her auburn hair curled around her tan scarf. A dark purple sweater that should have looked frumpy by all accounts hugged her curves just so, a black skirt barely brushed the tops of her knees. Thank god she was wearing tights, or Jack might have found himself in a very awkward position with his ex-girlfriend.

Her smile was nothing but genuine. “Oh my god, I haven’t seen you since last summer. How are you!”

She went in for a hug. Of course she did.

With no other options, he opened his arms and accepted the hug, feeling his breath pulled out of him when she pulled away.

“I’m uh, I’m alright.” His face felt like clay, and he kept smiling. “Busy, but you know how it is. How about you, though? How was your semester abroad?”

“Oh, it was amazing, Jack.” Her smile got impossibly bigger and brighter and more beautiful. “Scotland is beautiful. I wish you could have seen it. I have pictures, but it’s not the same. I wouldn’t have been able to pry you away from your paintbrush.”

Jack laughed a slightly pained laugh. “Sounds amazing.” He stood awkwardly, his weight not quite settled in his feet as he stood, caught between staying and running.

Even though it had been almost two years since things ended between them, Jack still felt the occasional prickle in the pit of his stomach when something inexplicably reminded him of Katherine. He was over it. At least, he told everyone he was. But Jack knew that no matter how much time passed, or who else he fell in love with, he would never  _ truly _ be over Katherine Pulitzer.

“What’s new?” she asked, looking truly interested in Jack’s life.

He exhaled slowly. “Oh, you know, the usual struggle of balancing work and school and being a functioning human being.”

Katherine laughed, and the sound made Jack’s heart flutter in his chest. “I feel that, too.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it sucks, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m worried I’ll have to take an extra semester. Studying abroad was totally worth it, but—”

Her phone buzzed in her hand. Jack hadn’t even realized she was holding it. Her eyes lit up when she looked at the screen.

“Sorry, I should get going. It’s getting late, and my boyfriend worries a lot when I walk home in the dark.”

Jack felt like the chest had frosted over. Two years, two years. It made sense that she’s moved on.

He nodded. “Gotcha. Well it was good seeing you, Kath. Take care of yourself.”

“You too, Jack.” She turned and began typing a message—to her  _ boyfriend _ —on her phone as she walked. The light from the screen illuminated her face in bluish silver.

Jack resumed walking. Well, he thought he did. He tried to. Instead he just stood there, one hand tightly gripping the edge of his jacket, watching Katherine walk away.

His own phone buzzed in his pocket—probably a message from Crutchie asking when he’d be home. Instead, when he checked, he found a message from Davey. The preview on the screen read, “Hey, I’m really sorry to ask th...” Jack swiped the message to open his conversation with Davey.

At 1:24 p.m: “ _ Good idea. I’ll talk to you later. _ ”

At 8:08 p.m: “ _ Hey, I’m really sorry to ask this of you, I know you’ve had a long day and you’ve still only known me like a week. _ ”

Another message came in: “ _ My roommates are taking me to the hospital, and I’m really not comfortable. _ ”

Jack’s breath caught in his throat. “ _ Which hospital? Where are you? _ ”

“ _ They just said ‘The closest one’. _ ”

Shit shit shit shit shit. Jack quickly searched the area for nearby hospitals, and thankfully one was obviously closer than the others. He glanced at the time, and started sprinting towards the bus station.

His phone buzzed again. “ _ I totally understand if you can’t or just don’t want to come. It’s silly of me to be like this with my roommates. _ ”

“ _ Hang tight, I’m on my way. _ ” Jack got to the station and checked the live update bus schedule app he’d downloaded the previous semester. The bus was running late. Goddammit.

He agonized for a moment, and considered running to the hospital. But that wasn’t realistic. With a frustrated wail, practically feeling the money for next week’s groceries trickling away, he called an Uber.


	6. Never Have I Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack visits Davey in the hospital, and nothing good ever comes from 2am conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feat. myself as the Delanceys, this time.

Jack stumbled onto the emergency room, still sweating from his sprint to the bus station and smelling of fryer grease. The waiting area boasted the usual riff raff of drunks and junkies, with a couple parents and their sick kids. It was pretty easy to spot the preppy guys in the corner who appeared about his age. He hurried over, keeping himself held to a fast walk.

“Hey, are you guys Dave Jacobs’ roommates?”

The two shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah,” the ever so slightly shorter one said. “Who the hell are you?”

“Jack Kelly, friend from school. Where is he?” Jack wasn’t looking at either of them, but rather craning his head around, searching the waiting room, as if he expected to see Davey in one of the chairs.

The same boy nodded towards a door. “Took him back already. He looked like hell.”

Jack nodded. “Great, thanks.” He turned and walked quickly to the main desk. “Hello miss,” he greeted the woman behind the desk. “My friend David Jacobs was just brought in, can I go back and see him? He texted me and asked me to show up.”

The woman smiled politely. “Not yet, I’m afraid. Once the doctor is done with the examination and clears him for visitors, we’ll let you know.”

Jack nodded tensely. “Alright, thank you.” He found a seat and pulled out his phone, shooting a text to Davey. “_ I’m here. They won’t let me back till the doctor clears you for visitors. _”

Davey didn’t reply. He probably didn’t have his phone, back there.

Davey’s roommates regarded Jack with suspicion, at least one of them keeping their eyes on him at all times. Jack couldn’t sit still. Checking his phone, bouncing his leg, wringing his hands, standing up and making a lap around the room, sitting down again. Not knowing was always the worst part of any situation.

“Hey,” the slightly taller of Davey’s roommates spoke up finally. “Relax.”

Jack looked over at the two of them, and went over to stand nearby. “What happened to him, anyway?”

They glanced at each other, then back at Jack. The shorter one explained, “We went to get something to eat from the campus store a little bit ago. David came with us. He fell down a few stairs on the way back.”

The taller scoffed. “He didn’t fall. You pushed me into him.”

“Well I didn’t do it on purpose! Jeez.”

Jack stared at them, completely deadpan.

“Anyways,” the shorter one continued, probably just to fill the uncomfortable silence. “He bumped his head real bad, and we thought he was okay, but after half an hour or so he started feeling dizzy and throwing up, so here we are.”

Jack continued to stare, his face impassable as a brick wall. “Wow, it’s real nice of you guys to have brought him to the hospital.”

The taller one shrugged. “It was that or tell our RA we threw our roommate down a stairwell.”

The thing on Jack’s face could technically be classified as a smile. But it looked more like the expression one might find on a hyena’s face when it’s spotted today’s dinner. “Probably the smarter choice.”

He got a text message, and nearly dropped his phone at the speed with which he retrieved it. This time, however, it _ was _ Crutchie.

“_ U ok Jack? Where are you? _”

“_ I’m fine. Dave’s roommates pushed him down the stairs, and I’m at the hospital waiting to be let back to see how bad it is. The roommates brought him, and they’re still here. Remind me why it’s a bad idea to fight two guys in an ER waiting room? _”

“_ They what????? _”

“_ Pushed him down the stairs. Said so themselves, right to my face. Crutchie I’m gonna kill them. _” Jack was gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

“_ And you’re telling me you didn’t call the cops? _”

“_ You’re right, I didn’t even think of that. Right now it’s all I can do not to punch their teeth out. _”

“_ Then you’d be the one getting arrested. _”

Crutchie was right; he should call the cops, but he didn’t get the chance before a male nurse in orange scrubs poked his head into the waiting area and asked, “Is there a Jack Kelly here?”

Jack whipped around to face him. “Yeah that’s me.”

The nurse smiled. “David Jacobs was asking for you. Would you like to see him?”

He nodded quickly, striding across the room to follow the nurse, who led him down a short hall.

“He has a concussion, so we’re keeping it pretty dark in his room, and I’m going to have to ask that you keep your voice down.” The nurse stopped and gestured to a dimly lit room.

Jack carefully opened the door and slipped inside, closing it again quietly. A small nightlight provided just enough to see. Davey quickly sat up when he saw Jack, and suddenly a look of horror crossed his face. He grabbed a conveniently placed bucket from his bedside and hurled into it.

All things considered, he looked okay.

Jack was frozen by the doorway. He had never been in a hospital room before, and everything about it was so...wrong. These rooms have a sort of fake comfortable-ness about them, with their bedside tables, and chairs that look all plush and comfy but they’re really just hard foam and sticky plastic. He had been to the doctor with Crutchie before, but never a hospital.

Davey fell back onto his pillows, looking like he might cry, and groaned. “Jack, I can’t thank you enough for coming. I seriously owe you.”

Jack snapped out of it and quickly came over to the bedside, sinking down to perch on the edge of one of the very stiff chairs. He moved a hand towards Davey’s, but hesitated, and just placed it on the bed instead.

“Of course, don’t be silly.” He just stared at him for a second. “What...happened?”

“Just a stupid accident in the stairwell. Busted up my brains, I guess.” He smiled weakly. “I really, really appreciate you being here.”

“Your roommate said they pushed you.”

“Sort of? They were messing around, and Oscar pushed Morris, who ran into me and knocked me down.”

“Mm.” Jack’s mouth was pressed into a tight line.

Davey frowned. “Are you okay?”

He let out a humorless bark of laughter. “I ain’t the one in a hospital bed, sweetheart. Let’s worry about you, huh?”

“I guess.” Davey squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, okay.”

Jack moved his hand from the bed to gently touch Dave’s arm. “How are you feeling?” His voice was quiet, soft, and dripping with thinly veiled concern.

Davey grinned a little deliriously without ever opening his eyes. “Like someone is actively trying to bash my skull in with a sledgehammer. They can’t give me aspirin or ibuprofen because they’re blood thinners, and I can’t have acetaminophen because I’m allergic.”

Jack cringed sympathetically. “That sucks.”

Davey took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “They want to keep me overnight,” he said softly, but there was an undeniable edge in his voice that Jack couldn’t identify.

Jack nodded. “Alright...” He looked briefly around the room, and then back to Davey. He looked so small in that stupid hospital bed...

He nodded again. “Should be fine, I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

Davey’s eyes widened. “Oh, god, no. I wasn’t asking—”

Jack shook his head. “I didn’t think you were.”

Davey uttered the verbal equivalent of a keyboard smash.

Jack smiled calmly. “It’s okay, really.”

Even in the dim light, he could tell Davey was blushing.

“I don’t care,” Davey said. “You have class tomorrow, and— and work!”

Jack shrugged. “I’ll call off. Tell them I’m in the hospital.” He briefly grinned, wrinkling his nose up. “I just won’t mention I’m not the one hurt.” He pulled out his phone. “Gotta let Crutchie know I won’t be home tonight though, he always worries so much.”

“Really, Jack, you don’t have to do that. Any of this. You don’t even have to be here.”

“You asked me to be here, so I’m here.” He continued smiling gently, but there was a resolute hardness in his eyes. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

Davey paused for a moment, furrowing his brow and biting his bottom lip, thinking. “You’re stubborn,” he said finally.

Jack nodded, his smile broadening. “Now you’re getting it.”

* * *

“Never have I ever cheated on schoolwork.”

David was honestly a little surprised that Jack didn’t drink for that one. They didn’t have anything other than water, of course, but it was the principal of the thing.

“Never have I ever played piano.”

“Shit,” David chuckled and took a gulp of his water. It was warm and tasted vaguely like chemicals.

It had gotten late quickly. Oscar and Morris had long since gone back to the dorm. David found himself unable to sleep on the stiff hospital bed, and Jack swore he wasn’t tired, but David wasn’t sure he believed that.

“Never have I ever been drunk.”

Jack hissed and took a drink. “Alright, never have I ever broken a bone.”

David just smirked at him. “Never have I ever had a girlfriend.”

Jack groaned, taking another drink. “Never have I ever gone camping.”

“Seriously? You’ve never been out of New York, and you’ve never gone camping?” David reluctantly took a drink.

Jack shrugged. “Life in the foster system ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s a hard knock life, for sure, but we didn’t have any spontaneous musical numbers.”

David chuckled at that. “Unfortunate. Never have I ever gone swimming in the East River.”

“Does it count if it wasn’t on purpose?”

“Oh, it counts double if it wasn’t on purpose,” David said seriously.

Grumbling, Jack drank. “This game is rigged.”

“My concussion, my rules.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Fine, fine, whatever you want.”

“It’s your turn to ask.”

“Never have I ever...” Jack paused, thinking. “Driven a car.”

David took a drink. He shrugged. “Guess there’s not much need, living in New York City, is there?”

“Yeah not much, mostly I just walk.”

David nodded, satisfied with Jack’s answer. “Never have I ever...had a _ boy _friend.”

Jack groaned louder this time, taking another drink. “You’re targeting, that’s not fair. You gotta just say things, not specifically stuff you think I’ve done.”

David held up his hands in surrender.

“See, I can target too.” Jack teased. “Never have I ever had a family.”

David sputtered out a nervous laugh. “God, Jack.”

Jack shrugged and awkwardly scratched the back of his head, clearly regretting his statement. “I mean, it’s true… Sorry, that was a little dark.”

David barely sipped his water, never taking his eyes off Jack. “Never have I ever had a single clue what I want out of life.”

With a little laugh, Jack drank again. At this point he’s stopped bothering to put his cup back on the table. “Never have I ever been able to _ get _ what I want out of life.”

“What do you want out of life?”

Jack laughed. “Enough. I want to have enough. Enough to eat, enough clothes, enough to pay bills, enough to be able to help the people I care about.” He sighed, dragging a hand over his face. “I want to go to sleep at night without worrying that I’m too worn down for work tomorrow, but if I call off I won’t be able to pay rent.”

David fell completely silent, struck by the overwhelming urge to help him, or at least hug him and let him know he wasn’t alone. Jack deserved to have enough. Hell, he deserved a lot more than that. The injustice of it all infuriated David. There was Jack, staying awake all night in the hospital to make sure he felt safe, struggling to make ends meet, while jerks like the Delanceys drove around in fancy cars and lived lives of excess. It wasn’t fair, and David couldn’t fix it.

Oblivious, Jack smiled and winced a little. “There I go being all dismal again...sorry.”

“Hey,  _ I’m _ the reason we’re in the fucking hospital.”

“Mmmm technically your roommates are the reason we’re in the fucking hospital.  You can say it was an accident all you want, I don’t believe it. You’re obviously way too coordinated to have been bumped over by a little mistake.” Jack’s mouth twisted up into a crooked smile. “Hell, you haven’t fallen for me yet, so there’s no way you’d just fall down a flight of stairs.” He winked, snickering.

David raised an eyebrow. “You’re incorrect about at least one thing,” he deadpanned.

Jack faltered for a moment, looking quickly at Davey and then away for a moment. He cleared his throat. “Right...I think it’s your turn? Unless you wanna do something else?”

David smiled, more than a little drunk on exhaustion and imbued with the kind of confidence only two a.m. can provide. “Never have I ever had a crush on David Jacobs.”

He had no fucking idea, however, what possessed him to say _ that _.

“Um, sorry, that’s weird.”

Jack laughed, “Yeah, that would be pretty weird if you had a thing for yourself.”

“Yeah,” David sighed. He was an idiot. Seriously. He didn’t know what he expected. Still, he’d hoped...but that was silly, and he’d known it since the moment Jack approached him in the dining hall. Guys like Jack Kelly didn’t get crushes on guys like David Jacobs.

Jack’s chuckling quieted and then stopped briefly. David glanced over at him as he was moving his glass away from his mouth. “Alright, never have I ever been smart enough to get paid for going to school.”

Wait.

Now _ wait just a damn minute _.

No. That’s not what he meant. He was thirsty. He forgot about the game for a second. There were a million other explanations for what Jack did just then.

David probably started at him for way too long before awkwardly clearing his throat and saying, with way less confidence that he intended, “You— you said no targeting.”

Jack smiled indulgently. “Fine. Never have I ever had a crush on Jack Kelly.” As soon as he finished his sentence, Jack took a huge drink of his water.

David sputtered a laugh. “Really?”

Jack snickered. “I’m a complete ego maniac, remember?”

David could feel every possible inch of exposed skin on his body turning as red as a fire truck. He specifically became very interested in the box of cotton swabs on the counter as he discreetly as possible took a drink.

Jack was staring right at him, grinning ear to ear.

“Well,” David said curtly, “since targeting is fair game, apparently, never have I ever drawn a pigeon.”


	7. Jack Wants the D(avey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey wonders aloud why Jack is staying with him in the hospital and gets an unexpected answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feat. my sister and myself as nurses, and myself as Oscar

David woke up in the dark, feeling gross and sore and generally uncomfortable. A piece of tape rubbed at the crook of his elbow, where a catheter connected his vein to an IV a nurse had given him last night to rehydrate him after he stopped throwing up. It felt like a bomb went off inside his skull. He had no idea what woke him up, but whatever it was, he wanted to shoot it.

His phone chirped on the table, sending another bolt of pain through his temples. He groaned and swatted at it, but picked it up and checked it nonetheless. Bad decision. The light blinded him, and he felt another wave of nausea start to build in his stomach.

He heard a groan in the darkness off to his right. Looking over, he saw Jack sprawled out across the armchair, precariously close to falling out of it with his legs slung over one arm, and his upper half hanging upside down, halfway towards the floor.

That didn’t look comfortable. Or safe. “Jack?”

There was a snort, and he shifted, sliding a couple inches further off the chair.

Oh god, the last thing they needed was not one, but two mild traumatic brain injuries. “ _ Jack _ .”

He jerked awake, and in doing so fell completely off the chair.

David flinched. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

He sat up slowly, groaning, with a hand clamped to the point of impact on his head. “...shit.”

“Sorry. You were sleeping upside-down and,” Davey cringed, “well, I didn’t want you to hit your head, but...”

Jack muttered noncommittally and rubbed his head, still sitting on the floor.

“Seriously, are you okay?” David asked a bit more forcefully.

He nodded, standing. “Yeah, yeah fine. Just not a great alarm clock, fallin’ on your head.”

“I’m really sorry about that. All of this, actually.” David scratched at the tape on his arm. “This sucks.”

“No no, nothing to be sorry about. This has been a great second date.” He smirked.

David sputtered. “Is that what this is?”

Jack was laughing. “Relax, Dave; I’m joking. If this was a date, I would’ve got you a pudding cup or something.”

David snickered and said, “You’re funny,” under his breath. He was awfully lucky to have met Jack, and he knew it. “Oh, hey, can you do me a favor?”

Jack had reached up again to touch the back of his head where he hit it, head tilted down to reach better. He glanced up at Davey, and it was much prettier than such a simple thing should be. “Yeah, whatever you need, what’s up?”

David held out his phone. “I got a text, but the light of the screen is killing me. Would you just look and see who it’s from?”

Jack nodded, taking the phone and glancing at the notification preview. “Says ‘Les’...?”

“Shit. Okay, can you read it? Um, my password is ‘Sarah’.”

Jack hesitated a second, wheels in his head clearly turning, then he punched in the password and opened up the message. “‘Mom wants you to come visit soon. She says it’s time to plan our summer lake day and the cookout. I miss you too.’”

David didn’t expect his heart to ache so much at that. He missed that kid. They had always been attached at the hip, ever since Les was born, and what he wouldn’t give for a hug from his mother just then. He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “That’s just like her to already be thinking about that in February.”

Jack nodded.

“Yeah, little early for summer.” His voice was oddly quiet and subdued. Much flatter than the usual, boisterous Jack Kelly.

David hesitated, debating whether he should ask, but that was Les on the other end of the line, so he did. “Will you...tell him I miss him too, and I’ll try to be home for Spring Break?”

Jack nodded, quickly typing in and sending David’s message.

“Thank you,” David added softly.

He didn’t tell his family he was in the hospital. They would worry and come to Manhattan and make a fuss, and they didn’t need to do that. Not over David and a dumb bump on the head.

Jack started to hand back Davey’s phone but paused. “Do you want me to tell him what happened? Or your ma or someone?”

Like he’d read his mind. “No.”

Jack nodded shortly and put David’s phone down on the side table. He was still quiet, still deflated.

David frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Jack looked away, avoiding David’s eyes. “Nothin, nothin. It’s nice, you having a family.”

“Yeah, it is,” David said softly, wanting to be sympathetic but having no clue what to say.

Jack cleared his throat awkwardly. “So uh...how ya feelin?”

“Could be worse.” David hoped his smile didn’t look too forced. “I’m sorry you had to sleep in a chair.”

He shrugged. “Not a problem, slept worse places. How’s your head?”

David checked himself before asking what worse places Jack had slept. “Could be better.”

Jack chuckled. “Fair enough.”

A small and oddly tense silence settled in the room. This was the first time David had seen Jack really uncomfortable, or quiet.

There was a soft knock on the door, and the doctor stepped in. “Hi, David. How are you feeling?” she asked.

David laughed. If one more person asked him that... “Not great, obviously, but better than I did last night.”

“Still sensitive to light?”

“Very.”

“Well, I’m afraid I have to check your eyes,” she said, pulling out a small light. “Do your best to keep them open for me.”

Jack got up and stepped towards the edge of the room, making sure he was well out of the way.

David did his best, just as the doctor asked, but he reflexively blinked when the light shone into his eyes.

The doctor sighed with a hint of frustration. “Everything looks okay, but I’d really like to do another CT scan to make sure before I discharge you.”

Jack remained in the corner, trying not to stare as the doctor finished her examination. She left with the promise to come back soon to take David for another scan.

David sighed. “Don’t wait up for me, Jack. You should go home.”

Jack shook his head. “Nah it’s no problem. I can stay.”

“Jack, really, I feel bad.”

“It’s what friends do.” He shrugged.

“You met me a week ago,” David insisted.

Jack put his hand on his chest and quietly gasped. “Are you sayin’ we ain’t friends?”

“That’s not what I meant—"

His voice quieted again. “If you want me to go I can go...”

There were a lot of things David should have said, and a lot of things he wanted to say. He should have said, “I don’t mean it like that.” He wanted to say, “I don’t want you to go.” What he did say was, “What is this about for you? And don’t give me some half-assed, evasive answer. Why are you here, at the hospital, looking after a guy you just met?”

That’s what he said, because even after everything, a part of him was still convinced that Jack was nothing special, and that getting involved with a guy like that would only lead to pain.

Jack stared for a moment, and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. He walked forward and stood near the end of the bed. “I dunno what you want me to say, Dave. You asked me to come, so I came.”

“I—…”

What? What did he want Jack to say?

“I gave you every possible out and you’re still here. What...do you want from me, Jack?”

Jack sputtered for a moment before properly answering. “I wanna make sure you’re okay! I don’t want you to be hurt!”

“I  _ am _ okay! I’m  _ not _ hurt! And you’re still here!” Davey shook his head. “I don’t deserve this, Jack!”

He knew he needed to rein it in, or he would start rambling, and when David Jacobs started rambling, he didn’t stop. He looked to Jack, who managed to look particularly beautiful while confused, and—

“And you, you’re incredible! You’ve been through so much, and you’re still the nicest, most selfless person I’ve ever met. Not to mention you’re really, really, talented and attractive. Like, it’s not fair, how attractive you are, and I know—I know from experience that really, really talented and attractive guys don’t give the time of day to stuck-up, high-strung, Jewish boys who honestly don’t have any idea what they’re doing or who they really are unless they want something from them, so—” He only stopped to catch his breath. “What do you  _ want? _ What—”

David was stopped short as Jack had very suddenly and very quickly stepped closer and cupped both his hands on either side of his jawline, pulling him up as he brought his mouth to meet David’s. It was a rough kiss. Desperate, impulsive, maybe the tiniest bit panicked, and was over very quickly. By the time what was happening had properly solidified in David’s head, Jack was already pulling back. He broke contact altogether as he stumbled slightly backwards. His face was bright red, and he was panting.

David couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t feel anything but the residual ghost of Jack’s lips on his. He couldn’t think anything except he needed Jack to kiss him again so he could breathe again.

It took a second for it to register that Jack was speaking. “Shit shit shit shit.” He dragged his hands up through his hair on either side of his head. “God, Dave, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t’a—...I don’t know—...shit, I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?”

David’s brain wasn’t working. Not right, anyway. “Why did you do that?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” Jack dragged both his hands down his face and pressed to his mouth for a moment. He dropped his arms, then continued to rake through his hair and wring his hands fitfully.

“I should— I can go. Do you want me to go? I should go. Shit I’m so sorry.”

“Was that because you  _ like _ me or you just want to sleep with me? Or did you just want me to shut up?”

“Yes, no. Wait.” Jack held out his hands in a stopping motion. He took a deep breath, but his voice was still rather panicky as he kept talking. “Look, I just— I know we don’t really know each other, we just met, but—...it’s—...God.” He dragged his hands over his face again. “Look. I shouldn’t’a done that, and I’m real sorry. But I just...had to...”

He shouldn’t have done that, he said. That meant he regretted it.

“It’s okay,” David murmured, dejected. “I just don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry, really.” Jack looked...scared? “We don’t really know each other, and I didn’t ask, and that wasn’t right a’ me. I just, you kept asking what I want and that’s...what I want...” his voice trailed off quieter and quieter as the sentence ended.

“You want to kiss me?” David’s mind raced a mile a minute. Call it low self-esteem, call it being realistic, he couldn’t wrap his head around Jack Kelly wanting to kiss him.

It looked like Jack was trying to twist his own hands off. “I did. I do. Shit I must seem like such a creep. I’m sorry.”

David realized he was probably standing at a crossroads with last week’s mysterious stranger. On one path, he and Jack salvaged the friendship they had managed to build over the last week and remained well within the safe, secure, platonic bounds thereof. On the other, the road less traveled, well, who knew what would happen? David’s gut instinct, as always, was to take the safe route. Protect what you have. Don’t take risks. How far had that gotten him in life?

“ _ Please _ do it again.”

Jack blinked, surprised. “Wh— you want me to—“

“ _ Please _ .”

Another heartbeat of hesitation, and in an instant Jack was back across the room. One of his hands tangled in the hair at the back of David’s head, and the other had a rather tight grip on the side of his shoulder as Jack crashed into him. This kiss was just as desperate, just as hungry, but a little less panicked.

David held on to Jack’s waist, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. He kissed him back this time, dimly noticing his face flush and heart rate spike, but mostly just noticing Jack’s hands and lips on him. He’d been kissed before, but never like this, and he wanted more.

The hand on Dave’s shoulder trailed down to rest on his chest, and Jack slowed down. His lips pulsed slowly and firmly against David’s. The panic was gone, replaced by intent and desire.

David would blame it on the sleep deprivation that he let out the slightest moan at Jack’s practiced touch. Jack clearly had more experience than him, but he decided not to worry about that.

Jack jerked backwards, breaking the kiss, and pulling his hands away, his face etched in fearful concern.

“Oh shit, did I hurt you?” he cringed.

David almost whined at the loss of contact, never letting go of Jack’s shirt. “What?”

“You made a noise?” He shook his head a little. “You’re hurt, I should’ve been more careful.”

“Jack, I’m fine.” David pressed a short kiss to Jack’s cheek. “I promise.”

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but in that moment there was a hurried knock on the door, and it was immediately opened as a nurse stepped in.

“Everything alright in here?”

Jack blushed furiously and quickly backed away from Davey, nearly all the way into the corner again.

“Yes. Yes, everything is fine,” David said, looking at Jack, then back at the nurse.

The nurse nodded. “Okay. We’ll be coming to get you for your CT scan in just a second.”

She left, closing the door behind her.

Jack let out a breath and chuckled a bit. “I think the heart rate monitor might’ve sent out an alert or something.”

The machine was blipping rapidly, in time with David’s racing heartbeat.

David laughed. “I forgot I was hooked up to that thing.”

Jack was grinning. He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the wall. “Goin’ awful fast there, Dave. Something happen?”

David rolled his eyes and shot Jack a look of irritation and just a hint of amusement.

Jack’s grin slid away, replaced by careful reservation. “Okay but really. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’a just jumped on you like that.”

“Probably not,” David agreed, “but I forgive you for assaulting me while I’m incapacitated.”

Jack laughed nervously. “Right...”

“Jack?”

He was intently studying his shoelaces, but glanced up at his name. “Mm?”

David hesitated, wondering if he wanted to change his sentence at the last second. “Don’t feel obligated, of course, but...I think I’d like it if you stayed.”

Jack bit back a smile. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” David nodded. “I’m sure.

“You’re not gonna call security on me for assaulting you?” he teased.

“Depends. Are you going to make a habit of it?”

A playful grin slid onto Jack’s face. “I dunno, I might have to.”

“You might.”

Another knock on the door, and the nurse stepped back in. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s get you ready to go.”

She set about unhooking David from monitors. He winced when she removed the IV catheter from his arm.

Jack cringed sympathetically.

The nurse turned to Jack. “You can wait here. We’ll be back in a bit.”

With that, another nurse joined her and they wheeled David out of the room. He smiled at Jack on the way out.

David knew he was okay, that they wouldn’t find anything different on the CT scan than they did on the one the previous night, and that he’d probably be released within the hour. Still, he couldn’t quell that prickle of doubt. He decided he was really glad Jack would be waiting for him.

* * *

As soon as Davey and the nurses left, Jack pulled out his phone, nearly dropping it in his haste to call Crutchie. As the phone rang, he began to pace around the room.

Instead of a greeting, Crutchie answered with a chuckle and, “‘Bout time you called.”

“ _ Crutchie help I kissed him _ .”

There was a crash, a thumping sound, and a quick hiss of, “Shit!” A few seconds later, Crutchie wailed into the phone, “You did  _ what? _ ”

“I dunno what happened, he was asking why I was here, and said we don’t know each other, and that I shouldn’t be here, and then he said I’m talented and attractive, and he kept asking what I wanted, and then I just grabbed him and I kissed him!” The words tumbled out of him in a rush.

There was a pause.

“...And!?”

“Whaddayamean  _ ‘and’ _ !? Crutchie, I basically pounced on the guy!” Jack slammed his back into the wall and slid down until he was on the floor. He rested his elbows on his bent knees, and cradled his forehead in his free hand. “Crutchie I’m freakin’ out.”

“ _ And _ ,” Crutchie insisted, “what did he do? Did he deck or you something? Cuss you out? Pull you in and screw you in the hospital bed?”

“No, he got all cute and confused and asked me to do it again and I did and then a nurse came in and now he’s gone getting some kind of scan and he asked me to stay and I don’t know what to do!”

“Wait wait wait wait wait.” Jack could practically hear Crutchie closing his eyes and shaking his head the way one does when trying to catch up. “Slow down. You’re telling me that,” he paused briefly as if starting a list, “you kissed the cute boy you haven’t shut up about for the last week.”

Jack nodded vigorously. “Yeah.”

“Then he  _ asked you to do it again. _ ”

More nodding. “Mhm!”

“And this is somehow a problem?”

Jack groaned. “Okay no, it’s not a problem, it’s just not what I thought was going to happen today?”

“So take a deep breath. Jack, he  _ likes _ you. There’s no need to freak out.”

Jack groaned again, more emphatically, and leaned his head back against the wall. “Crutchie, what the hell is going on? Nothing even happened, I barely even know him and I’m getting all weird and stupid.”

“Mmhm.” Jeez, did Crutchie have to sound so damn smug about it? “Mr. Suave Jack Kelly has a crush, just like the rest of us. Jesus is coming back.”

Jack rolled his eyes, smiling. “You’re no help at all.”

“What do you want me to do?” Crutchie giggled.

“Well stop being so smug, for one!” Jack laughed.

“What?” Crutchie sounded like he was crying with laughter. “It’s cute!”

“You’re the worst.” Jack grumbled, unable to stop smiling.

“So I definitely should have asked this already, but is he okay? You said they just took him for some scan or something?”

“Oh, yeah, I think he’s okay. Got a concussion and some nasty bruises. Nothing as bad as what his roommates’ll get if I ever see them again.”

“Just don’t get yourself arrested again.”

Jack scoffed. “Yeah no way that’s happening again.”

“Jack, I gotta go to class. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure. Talk to you later.”

Jack ended the call and dropped his head into his hands. It had been years now, since the last time he had fallen this hard, this quickly. It made no sense, they’d only met a week or so ago, and yet here he was, waiting in a hospital room, for the boy whose face he had just attacked. That damned pretty face.

When the nurse brought Davey back, she had him sitting up in a wheelchair. He smiled at Jack as she rolled him in, looking like he hadn’t slept in days—eyes bloodshot, hair mussed and sticking out in strange directions, still pretty.

“Everything looks okay,” the nurse told Jack. “Just keep an eye on him.”

Jack nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’ll go get your discharge instructions, and we’ll get you out of here,” she told Davey, patting him on the shoulder.

As soon as she left, Davey said to Jack, “You don’t have to keep an eye on me. I’ll just take a bus back to the dorms and get the RA to check up on me in a bit.”

Jack sighed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be going alone. You  _ did _ just suffer a head injury.” He paused, “Though I can’t really offer to ride back with you...”

He cringed. What was he doing? They had only just met. They had only just kissed! Nothing had changed, nothing had really even  _ happened _ . He had no right to be telling Dave what he thinks is or isn’t a good idea.

Davey knit his eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean, you can’t ride back with me? Not that you need to, but...”

Jack looked down, shoving his hands into his pockets. He had always been poor, that wasn’t new. Even such little things as coffee or bus fare were a luxury to him. What  _ was _ new was being embarrassed about it. He had never cared before. Sure, if someone looked down on him or mocked him for it he’d soak them. But he had never been embarrassed. Now, suddenly, with this very pretty boy looking at him, he found himself unwilling to tell. Fearful that Dave might think less of him.

“It’s uhh, I don’t really do busses...”

“Oh.” Davey nodded. “That’s fair.” He showed no signs of anything but complete belief in Jack’s story. “Nonetheless, I probably shouldn’t be walking back. I guess I could text Morris and Oscar and see if one of them can pick me up.” He reached for his phone.

Jack shook his head sharply. “I’ll take the bus with you. Or see if I can get one of the fellas who drives to come pick us up or something. You shouldn’t—”

Shit, there he was again. Jack dragged a hand over his face, as if he could wipe away his undue overprotectiveness.

Davey shook his head, already typing out a message. “I am officially done imposing on you for the day. They’re probably in class, though. Maybe Elmer has a car?”

“Yeah that’s probably better than asking the guys who put you in the hospital in the first place...”

“It  _ was _ an accident,” David insisted. It looked like he barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

Jack held up his hands in surrender. “A’ight, it ain’t my place to argue this with ya.”

“Thanks.” Davey set his phone down in his lap. He spaced out a little. “Oscar’s on his way.”

Jack’s hands tightened into fists. “You sure you’re okay with that? Bein’ in a car with him?”

“What do you think he’s going to do? Crash into a building, killing us both instantly?”

Jack sighed. “Alright alright, you’re right.”

“Hey,” Davey murmured, reaching a hand out to Jack.

Jack looked up at him, catching his hand. “Yeah?”

Davey looked so sweet, with the corners of his lips just barely lifted and his eyes just so damn open and honest. Jack was such a goner.

“I think it’s sweet that you’re worried about me,” Davey said, “but I promise, I’m going to be okay.”

He sighed, with Dave looking at him like that, there was nothing he could do. “Alright. If you get even a TINY bit worried you call me?”

“Of course.”

He smiled a tight smile, and squeezed Davey’s hand.

Why did he care this much? It was barely over a week ago that they met, yet the thought of Davey getting hurt was like a rock in Jack’s stomach.

Davey didn’t even seem to realize he was still holding Jack’s hand. He didn’t let go until the nurse came back with his discharge papers and declared him free to go. He stood up out of the wheelchair, a little unsteady on his feet. Jack made sure it was obvious that he was there if Davey needed something to lean on.

“I can wait with you till your ride gets here.” He offered.

“Thanks.”

Davey made it to the waiting room doors before placing a hand on Jack’s arm for balance.

Jack helped him steady, walking with him so he could remain a support. He chuckled in a fake lighthearted manner. “How’s your head?”

“Shuddup,” Davey slurred, falling down hard on a bench.

Jack winced a little at his landing.

Davey leaned back and groaned. “I wanna nap.”

Jack sat down next to him and reached a hand out to rest on his shoulder but stopped short. Could he do that? Would that be weird? Were they still just friends or had things changed?

He dropped his hand back into his lap.

“You should nap when you get back to your dorm.”

A white car pulled up. Jack didn’t know much about cars or the many models thereof, but whatever this one was, it screamed “rich white boy,” and he knew who it belonged to before Oscar Delancey even stepped out of the driver’s side.

“You okay?” Oscar called to Davey, but there wasn’t any real concern in his tone.

Davey nodded and stood slowly. Jack stood rigid, hands in fists at his aides. 

“You sure you’re alright Dave?” he said tightly.

He barely heard Davey’s quiet affirmation.

Oscar side-eyed Jack with a combination of disgust and what looked vaguely like fear. “You need a ride somewhere?”

Jack’s small smile was more of a snarl, really. “Not from you.”

Davey groaned as he climbed into the passenger’s seat, and it took a moment for Jack to realize it was in annoyance at his comment.

Jack stood, watching Oscar in the most threatening manner one can convey with just their eyes.

“Let me know if ya need anything else, Davey.”

Davey leaned his cheek on the headrest to look at Jack. “I really do owe you, Jack.”

Jack waved dismissively with a shrug. “Nah, don’t worry about it. You’d’a done the same.”

Davey closed his door, and in an instant, Oscar’s car disappeared into the New York traffic, leaving Jack alone on the sidewalk.

Jack sighed, dragging a hand over his face and up through his hair. He checked his old, beat up watch. One thirty-six. If he walked fast, he’d still be able to make his shift at the auto shop.


	8. Always Check Who You're Texting: A Cautionary Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is worried about Davey, Crutchie is oblivious to Lauren's affections, and Race is drunk as ducks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Including a bonus Sprace scene feat. my sister as Spot Conlon and myself as Race
> 
> I promise, starting today, I will be better about replying to comments.

Sleeping in a chair, plus a long day, plus being covered in motor oil made for a very grumpy Jack Kelly as he trudged into his apartment. He found some solace in the fact that he could soon shower and vent all his woes to Crutchie, until the door opened. Crutchie, as it turned out, was not alone, but was pouring over some complicated life science textbook with Lauren, spouting off a sentence Jack couldn’t hope to understand in a million years.

There was also, of course, the fact that Jack had yet to hear a single word from Davey.

Crutchie glanced up when he heard the door. “Hey, Jack.”

“Uhh, hiya, Crutchie. Lauren, hey, how’s it goin’?” Jack was less than enthusiastic about coming home to find the place crawling with women.

Well, not so much women as woman, and not so much crawling as sitting quietly in the overstuffed armchair in the corner.

“Hi. Good,” Lauren replied meekly. “How are you?”

Jack grunted noncommittally and crossed to the bedroom, gently shoving Crutchie’s shoulder as he passed. He closed the door behind him, then heard it open and close again moments later.

“Are you okay?” Crutchie asked, crossing his arms in front of himself.

Pulling off his greasy work shirt, Jack shrugged. “I guess?” He reached into the closet for a plain T-shirt. “Hospital sent Davey home. His roommate picked him up, and I haven’t heard anything from him since then.”

Jack flopped onto his back on his bed. “Am I being weird? Being all worried and stuff?”

“Yes,” Crutchie said, sitting down on his own bed. “But you came home from your first date with Kath saying you were going to marry her, so it’s par for the course, really.”

Jack groaned, grabbing his pillow and pressing it onto his face. “I can’t help it.” He mumbled into the pillow.

“Have you texted him to ask how he’s doing?”

“No, I don’t wanna bug him.”

Crutchie sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, he’s probably just resting. Remember when I got a concussion from falling off the monkey bars as a kid?”

“Yeah, you were out of it for awhile.”

“Right.” He pulled himself back up on his crutch. “Don’t worry yourself sick, okay? I’m gonna keep helping Lauren. If it gets to be too much, just text him. You made out in a hospital, for Pete’s sake.” Crutchie tossed Jack a playful wink.

“Yeah, why is she here?” Jack asked, sitting up.

“Lauren?” Crutchie paused with his hand on the door handle and turned. “I’m helping her with a class.”

“Mm.” Jack nodded, flopping back down on his bed and checking his phone listlessly.

Crutchie sighed. “Well, I’m right out here if you need me.”

As Crutchie returned to the living room, Jack could just barely hear Lauren ask, “Is Jack okay?” Crutchie’s answer was muffled by the closing door.

After a few minutes, Jack decided to go get food. He got up and went out into the living room, tossing a casual “hey” at Crutchie and Lauren as he moved to the kitchen.

“How’s studying or whatever?” he asked, attempting to be polite.

“A lot better with Charlie than it is on my own,” Lauren said.

Crutchie chuckled. “You’re smart. You’d have figured it out without me.”

Jack snickered quietly to himself when Lauren blushed a bit at Crutchie’s compliment. The poor kid had it real bad, and Crutchie was - as usual - completely oblivious.

“Yup, _ Charlie _ is one hell of a guy.” Jack smirked at Crutchie.

Crutchie flipped him off. He laughed, and turned to dig in the cabinets for a cereal bowl, listening to Lauren and Crutchie talk in the main room.

“Thank you so much for helping me out, it really means a lot.” Lauren had a soft, sweet voice, but it got a special sort of gentle when she was talking to Crutchie.

“Hey, it’s no problem,” he told her. “I’m always happy to help you.”

She smiled that sort of smile that girls smile when their crush says something ‘cute’. Jack knew it all too well, and it was all he could do to stifle his giggling in a bowl of Cheerios. For a moment, he was so wrapped up in the adorable scene in front of him that he forgot all about his worries, until he heard a message come in on his phone back in the bedroom. He hurriedly set his bowl down and rushed back into the bedroom, grabbing his phone off the bed and quickly opening the text.

It took him a moment to realize that the name on top of the screen was not, in fact, “Davey,” as he had hoped, but “Dumbass,” as he was faced with a text that read,  _ “It’s 8:30 and I’s drunk as duuucks,” _ immediately followed by one saying,  _ “Have youvever noticed that Spot Conlon is like really duckling hot???” _

Jack let out a mix of a laugh and a groan. He quickly typed back, _ “Race what the fuck.” _

_ “I’s has sooooo much. Idea Hack and I’s on Facebook and Spot Conlon is hooky.” _

Another text:  _ “Advil’s.“ _

And another: _ “DICK.” _

Jack was laughing. _ “What the hell are you trying to say to me?” _

_ “Al went out with some Tinder ho and I’d srinkin all the vodka.” _

_ “Race, kid, you can’t try and drown yourself in booze every time Albert has a date. That isn’t a healthy way to deal with your feelings.” _

_ “If Spit’s not gay I’ll kill myseleg.” _

Jack snorted.  _ “Jesus, Race. Do you need me to come over?” _

_ “I MEED SPOT COBLON TO SUCK MY DICK.” _

Jack lost it, properly laughing. Man, he had thought  _ he _ wasn’t handling his crush well.

“What is going on in there?” Crutchie called.

“So y’know how Race is totally in love with Albert?” Jack called back.

“Yes?”

“Al’s on a date.”

Crutchie groaned. “Is Race shit faced again?”

Jack received a text proclaiming, _ “I WANT TO LICK VHIS VALLS.” _

“That’s putting it mildly.” Jack snickered.

Crutchie clicked his tongue. “Poor guy.”

Another message came in, but nothing new showed up in Jack’s conversation with Race. Jack frowned for a second, and then realized that he’s stupid. He tapped back to his messages menu, looking hopefully for the new message.

Sure enough, finally, he had a new message from Davey. _ “Hey. Sorry, I know it’s late. I don’t want to bother you. I just wanted to say thank you again for everything.“ _

A wave of relief washed over Jack. _ “Hey, no problem. I’m glad I could help.” _

_ “I promise I’ll make it up to you. I can buy you lunch, or all the Cheese Puffs you desire. Just say the word, Jack.“ _

He bit his lip, smiling. _ “Nothing to make up, Davey. I was happy to do it.” _

_ “Yeah, right. Sleeping in a chair in the E.R. is such a fun way to spend a Tuesday night.” _

_ “Just so long as you were there” _ Jack paused, and then deleted the text. _ “It wasn’t that bad, any chance to spend time with you” _ He backspaced again.  _ “No biggie, really.” _

There was a long pause, during which Race messaged,  _ “I’M GOING GO MESSAGE HIM.” _

Then, Davey replied, _ “I’m really lucky I met you.” _

Jack nearly dropped his phone as he tried to switch quickly to Race’s message stream _ “You dumb fuck don’t do it!”  _ Immediately after pressing send, he went back to the menu to return to the conversation with Davey, and froze in horror.

He hadn’t switched streams. In his haste, he had backed out of Davey’s messages, and then clicked right back in instead of going to Race’s.

The little bubble that indicated that Davey was typing popped up and went away a couple times. Jack slammed his head into the wall. Looked at the little bubble, and slammed his head into the wall.

Why was he so  _ stupid? _ Couldn’t even hold a conversation with a cute guy without fucking everything up. Not to mention this was the same cute guy he had sorta made out with in a hospital the night before. As the bubble returned, Jack wished his mattress would swallow him.

_ “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” _ Davey replied. _ “I’m sorry if I came on too strong or made you uncomfortable. And maybe I’m a dumb fuck, but that’s still a little harsh? Idk. I’m sorry.“ _

_ “Nononononono oh my god I’m so sorry. That was for my buddy Race. I thought I switched conversations but I didn’t. Shit I’m sorry.” _

He quickly typed another message.  _ “If anyone came on too strong it was me. You ain’t the one that launched yourself across a hospital bed.” _

There was another pause, and then, _ “I liked it, though.” _

Jack nearly dropped his phone.  _ “You liked being called a dumb fuck??” _

_ “NO.” _ Davey shot back immediately. In another message, he explained, _ “No, I don’t like being called a dumb fuck. I liked it when you kissed me.” _

Jack was laughing as he punched in his next message.  _ “I know, I was just teasing.”  _ He continued _ . “I liked it too…” _

_ “Maybe you could do it again sometime?“ _

_ “Mm, I dunno. Do you have an appointment scheduled? You might have to get on the waiting list.” _

_ “Can I schedule an appointment for Saturday?” _

_ “I’ll ask my secretary if there’s an opening.” _

“ _ Ey Crutchie! _ ” Jack shouted.

“What!?” Crutchie shouted back.

“What are we doin’ Saturday?”

A brief pause, and then, “Sleeping!?”

“Hmm, ya think I got time in there to kiss a guy?”

Jack could hear Lauren trying to stifle laughter.

“I don’t know,” Crutchie said. “Do you think you can fit it in between pining after David and wet dreams about David?”

Lauren did laugh at that. Jack threw a pillow through the doorway, hoping for it to hit Crutchie. It did not.

He texted Davey back,  _ “My secretary is useless. I think I can fit you in for a last minute reservation though.” _

_ “Oh yeah? What time?” _

_ “Well I have a very important meeting with my bed until about noon, and then I have to do the fridge’s annual employee appraisal. But after that I should be good.“ _

_ “Cute. How does one or two o’clock sound?” _

Jack grinned.  _ “I am, aren’t I? And that works fine for me, whenever you want.” _

_ “Then it’s a date. We can figure out the details later. I’m falling asleep as we speak.” _

Jack felt his heart skip, and immediately rolled his eyes at himself for being so easy to fall. _ “Don’t forget the pudding cups” _

_ “Won’t. Goodnight, Jack.“ _

_ “Night Davey” _

Jack put down his phone and just sat for a second. Then a big dumb grin spread across his face and he grabbed his pillow, crushing it against his chest and wiggling a bit. He was always like this. If he fell—and he almost always did—he fell hard and fast. Some had called it romantic, others had called it creepy, but mostly people just said it was dumb.

He heard Crutchie and Lauren exchange goodnight wishes before Crutchie joined him in the bedroom.

“I take it you finally talked to David,” Crutchie said, digging through his dresser for a pair of pajamas.

Jack nodded, still hugging the pillow. “Yeah. He said we’re gonna have another date...Or maybe he meant it as a joke; I don’t know.”

Crutchie just chuckled. “Jack, get a grip. He didn’t mean it as a joke.”

“Crutchie why am I like this? It’s pathetic!”

Crutchie threw a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on his bed. “To be fair, he  _ is _ pretty.” He punctuated his sentence with the closing of the drawer and hobbled after his chosen clothes.

Jack returned his pillow to it’s rightful spot and got up to get his own pajamas. “You know what I mean, though. I was like this with Kat, too. I’m always such a dumbass.”

“You’re right, but I’m not sure what that has to do with David.”

Jack had trouble changing, seeing as he was gesticulating wildly with his hands as he was talking. “I’ve only known him for like a week and I’m already all...I dunno—dumb!” He continued to grumble as he crawled into bed. “It’s not that I’m all gushy or whatever, that’s fine, that’s having a crush, but I’m so  _ worried _ about him.”

Crutchie’s voice was muffled by his pajama shirt as he pulled it on over his head. “What are you worried is going to happen?”

“I told you his roommates pushed him down the stairs, right?”

“Fair enough.” Crutchie curled up on top of his blankets. “Why the hell did they do that?”

Jack rolled onto his back, pressing the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. “Cause they’re assholes? I dunno. He said something about them trashing Race cause he’s gay, so maybe it’s that?”

“Shit,” Crutchie sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jack.” He rolled on to his back and stared at the ceiling.

“Dave insists it was an accident, and it really isn’t my place to fuss.” He rolled over to look at Crutchie. “What if they really hurt him?”

“Jack,” Crutchie groaned, “you’re all bent out of shape over stuff that ain’t happened.”

“I know...” he sighed. Growing up in the system, Jack had always been the protector. He watched out for the other kids, especially Crutchie. As he moved into adult life, those white knight instincts remained, and if anything, they got stronger.

With a heavy sigh, Crutchie stood up, forgoing his cane in favor of leaning on the wall as he hobbled over to Jack’s side of the room. He sat down on Jack’s bed next to him and gently massaged his friend’s shoulder. “Jack, you care about people too much for your own good, and that’s one a’ the things that makes you Jack, and I wouldn’t want you to change it for the world, but...” He looked away, knitting his brow in thought. “You can’t save someone from drowning if you drown first. Do you know what I mean?”

“I ain’t drownin’, I’s just worried!”

Crutchie rolled his eyes. “You don’t know what I mean. Cool.”

“No, no. I get it.” Jack sighed again, sitting up and slumping his forehead onto Crutchie’s shoulder. “I gotta take care of me if I wanna take care of others, yadda yadda.”

“Right.” Crutchie pet Jack’s hair—something he often did, ever since they were little kids. A small giggle worked its way into his voice. “You know,  _ I  _ shoulda been the guardian here.”

Jack gently shoved at Crutchie’s ribs, not hard enough to move him. “Maybe, but you’re a cripple, so that wouldn’t’a worked.”

Crutchie shoved back. “I could soak ya with my cane, any day.”

“Yeah, if I held real still for ya.” Jack chuckled, straightening up to stick his tongue out at Crutchie.

Crutchie bopped him on the forehead with the heel of his hand. “Whatever. Now scoot over, I got my crippled self over here, but I’m not going back.” He unapologetically made himself comfortable in Jack’s bed, taking up most of the pillow.

Jack rolled his eyes. “‘You the guardian’ my ass.” Completely unbothered, he lay down with Crutchie, and cozied right up to his back. The two had frequently shared a bunk while they were in the group home, and old habits die hard.

“Want me to tell you a bedtime story?” Crutchie asked, and Jack could hear his cheeky smile in his voice. “Sing you a lullaby? Once upon a time, there was a dumbass named Kack Jelly, and—”

Jack laughed, and carefully kicked the back of Crutchie’s good leg. “Go to sleep ya lousy crip!”

Crutchie laughed, then quieted down with a sleepy exhale. “Love you, J.”

Jack leaned his forehead against the back of Crutchie’s head, smiling softly. “Love you too, Crutchie.”

* * *

Facebook Messenger

Anthony Higgins, 8:39pm: heeeeeu

Sean Patrick Conlon, 8:39pm: Hey?

Anthony Higgins, 8:40pm: HRY

Anthony Higgins 8:40pm: had anyone ever told you that you look like a tiny Greek god

Sean Patrick Conlon 8:40pm: Uhh...no?

Anthony Higgins 8:40pm: well I’s drunk and you’re hottt

Sean Patrick Conlon 8:41pm: Right…

Sean Patrick Conlon, 8:41pm: Thank you? I guess?

Anthony Higgins 8:41pm: furiejfguthegdyfjt

Sean Patrick Conlon, 8:49pm: Is Albert or anyone with you?

Anthony Higgins, 8:56pm: NO fuck Albert

Anthony Higgins, 8:56pm: fuck him fuvk him fuvk gin

Anthony Higgins, 8:56pm: I hate him so much

Sean Patrick Conlon, 8:57pm: Uhh, yikes. Everything alright?

Anthony Higgins, 8:57pm: Mmhm I’d gone

Anthony Higgins, 8:57pm: I’s gone

Anthony Higgins, 8:58pm: fineeeee

Sean Patrick Conlon, 8:58pm: Doesn’t sound like it

Anthony Higgins, 8:58pm: loooook

Anthony Higgins, 8:58: i’s gay

Sean Patrick Conlon, 8:59pm: Yeah, you are

Anthony Higgins, 9:01pm: ru

Anthony Higgins, 9:01pm: gay? Albert’s is not gay

Sean Patrick Conlon, 9:02pm: I’m not sure if it’s any of your business, but yeah. What does Albert have to do with anything?

Racetrack Higgins, 9:02pm: have you seen Albert he’s beautiful why are all the beautiful men straight

Sean Patrick Conlon, 9:52pm: lol

Racetrack Higgins, 9:52pm: ur straight ainNt ya ur too pretty to b gay

Sean Patrick Conlon, 9:53pm: Learn to read, I said yeah. lol

Racetrack Higgins, 9:53pm: O shit u did

Racetrack Higgins, 2:44am: hey no offense can I succ ur dick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Race's drunk texts were created by me typing with my eyes closed.


	9. David and Jack Are Both Screaming on the Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Les grills David about his love life, Crutchie is still oblivious to Lauren’s affections, and Chelsea is a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve accidentally started shipping Lauren and Crutchie haha WHOOPS.
> 
> Feat. my sister as Les Jacobs

David was terrified.

Not of his homophobic roommates. Not even of the mountain of homework his professors sent to keep him caught up while he was recovering from his concussion. No, David was terrified about how fast he was becoming very, very attached to Jack Kelly. David had suffered through plenty of crushes in his life—in closeted silence, he might add. The physical attraction was nothing new or special, although Jack  _ was particularly _ physically attractive. The warmth that bloomed in David’s chest whenever Jack was around or even when Jack texted him wasn’t new. The cold, empty feeling that marked Jack’s absence? That was new, and that was terrifying.

David was wallowing in his anxiety and not actually reading a single word of the book in his lap when a Skype call came in on his laptop and scared him so much he almost threw said book at it. Instead, he reached over and clicked on the call. Instantly, a somewhat static-y picture of his little brother popped onto the screen. Les grinned, and said something, but no sound came through.

“Hey, Les!” David messed with the volume on his computer and checked his settings on Skype. “Give me a second, I can’t hear you.”

A moment later, Les’ voice came through David’s speakers much,  _ much _ louder than necessary.

“HEY DAVID HOW’S THINGS?”

“Great, fantastic.” David frantically turned down the volume, apologizing in his head to the students on the other side of the thin dorm wall. “How are you, kiddo?”

“I’m fine, mostly bored.” Les stuck his tongue out at his big brother. “So? What’s the new school like?”

David grinned. “Polite or honest?”

Les snickered. “Let’s hear the speech for mom, and then the real deal.”

“It’s a great school,” David said, a little louder so their mom could hear. “I’m working very hard and getting good grades and staying out of trouble.”

“Hear that ma?” Les shouted over his shoulder. “David’s still the golden child.”

He turned back to the screen and leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a mock whisper. “Okay, how is it really?”

“I really hated it at first,” David confessed. “My roommates are the worst. Even worse than you and Sarah.”

Les laughed. “Wow, must be horrific.”

“But it’s not so bad, anymore,” David continued. He hated the way his mind automatically went to Jack and his stupid, beautiful face and his stupid, sexy voice.

“Ya makin’ friends?”

“A few.”

“Met any girls?” Les wiggled his eyebrows, shimmying his shoulders as he teased his brother.

Oh god oh god oh god. “...No.”

Les squinted suspiciously. “You hesitated.”

“...No, I didn’t.”

Shit, he totally had, and he had totally just done it again. “Seriously Les, I—”

Les slammed his hands down on the desk he was sitting in front of. “Alright, who is she? How’d you meet?”

“We...met in the dining hall.” Okay, good start. He could do this. Time to seize the day and come out to his little brother, who looked up to him.

What if he came out to Les and Les didn’t look up to him anymore?

Les rested his elbows on the desk and propped up his chin on his hands. “And?”

“And.” David’s eyes unfocused on the screen. He was screaming on the inside.

“Well, out with it, man! I want details!” Les demanded, slapping a hand on the desk again.

David jumped. “Okay, um—”  _ Come on, come on, some things about Jack that don’t involve him having a dick. _ “Dark brown hair, brown eyes, really pretty smile.” Aaand Davey was smiling and blushing, undoubtedly giving away how utterly hopeless he was. “And we’re  _ not _ a couple.”

Les was beaming. “Oh man, you got it bad, don’t you?”

“I do not!” David insisted.

“Mmm sure looks like it though.”

He huffed. “Whatever. We’re talking about  _ your _ love life, now. How’s Isabella?”

Les shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Good, I think? She doesn’t really talk to me now. Dumped me ‘cause she thought there was something going on with me and Kenzie. Which for the record, there wasn’t.” He paused. “But there is now.”

“Oh.” David frowned. “I’m...sorry?”

Les shrugged again. “Isabella was always upset if another girl even said ‘hi’ to me, so honestly, I’m surprised it lasted this long.”

So was David. Most of his little brother’s girlfriends—and there had been a lot—were gone within the month. Isabella must have been pretty special to have hung in there for...what...three months? Two and a half? “So, Kenzie.”

“No no no no,” Les tutted. “This is an exchange. I told you something, you tell me something. What’s your girl’s name?”

Les made it so easy for David. Les was a smart kid. All David had to say was “Jack,” and Les would read between the lines and figure it out. Les saved David all the trouble of having to say “I’m gay.” It was perfect.

But David, like a dumb fuck, answered, “Kelly,” and realized immediately after that he had just dug himself a nice grave.

His little brother nodded, “Kelly, nice name. What’s she majoring in?”

“Art.” If David could just manage to avoid using any pronouns, he wouldn’t be lying to his brother. “Studio art, specifically.”

“Oh that’s cool! She your same year, or...?”

David shook his head stubbornly. “Uh-uh. You made the deal. You gotta talk about Kenzie, now.”

Les rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out. “Fine, what do you wanna know?”

If he played his cards right, David could get Les talking and not have to say another word about Jack. “Well, what does she look like?”

“Red super curly hair, lotsa freckles, brown eyes. She’s sooooo short.” Les was grinning in that way only dumb teenage boys can.

Got him.

“She sounds nice. Do you have a picture?”

“Uhhhh.” Les pulled out his phone. “Hang on, lemme find one.”

So David spent the next two hours listening to Les gush about a girl he’d probably date for another week or so, then fell asleep without finishing his homework. Before falling asleep, though, he realized with a heavy sense of dread that Les was  _ definitely _ going to tell their parents about “Kelly.”

* * *

“Crutchie, come on.” Jack pleaded as his roommate placed yet another dirty dish on the large pile he had stacked in Jack’s arms. “I get the concept of having the place tidy for guests, but you ain’t gonna be tutoring Lauren in our room!” He paused, licking his lips briefly as a little grin twisted onto his face. “Unless...” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Crutchie scoffed, “It’s called being polite, Jack.”

Someone who wasn’t Jack might have missed the ever-so-slight dusting of pink on Crutchie’s cheeks.

Jack gasped, and stepped closer to Crutchie, wiggling like a worm on a hook, and very nearly dropping all the dishes. “Could it be? Are Lauren’s dreams all coming true?”

“What the heck are you doing?” Crutchie laughed, stacking one more dish on top of the others.

“Has the blind man finally seen the light? Has our noble and studious tutor finally realized the true desire of his loyal pupil?” Jack was following Crutchie around the room, making sure to be close enough that it made walking rather difficult.

“The only thing Lauren  _ desires _ is help with her science classes. Now, take those to the sink.”

“Well she’s certainly got chemistry on the mind, I’ll agree to that.” Jack teasingly elbowed Crutchie in the ribs, giggling.

“Sink. Now,” Crutchie commanded, unable to disguise his flustered smile anymore.

Content in his victory, Jack walked to the kitchen, depositing his armload into the sink noisily. “I’m telling you man, it’s real bad. You should see the way she looks at you.” He chuckled. “Poor kid.”

“You’re delusional.” Crutchie straightened the pillows on the couch.

“No that’s you, hon,” Jack called over the running water as he filled half the sink and started scrubbing the dishes, once again cursing their lack of a dishwasher.

There was a knock on the door, and Crutchie answered. Jack smirked to himself as he heard Lauren’s angelic little voice utter an adorably smitten, “Hi, Charlie.” Fucking adorable.

But then she went on to say, “I hope you don’t mind, I brought Chelsea with me. We were both out, and—”

Crutchie, ever the sweetheart, cut her off with, “No, no, not at all, come in.”

Jack cringed, scrubbing a little faster in hopes of making a quick escape. Lauren was a peach, and Jack didn’t at all mind having her around. It was fun to watch Crutchie be so wildly oblivious. Chelsea on the other hand...Chelsea was...a lot.

Case in point, as Crutchie and Lauren settled down in their usual study corner, Chelsea plopped herself on the kitchen counter right next to the sink. “Wifey’s gotcha on dish duty, huh?” she joked, nodding at Crutchie.

Jack slid an obligatory hosting smile onto his face. “He cooked, so it’s only right he shouldn’t have to clean up.”

Crutchie called from the living room. “I didn’t cook anything, but I also didn’t leave dirty dishes in the bedroom for the past week and a half!”

Chelsea snickered at Jack’s expense.

He rolled his eyes and called back. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying?”

Crutchie flipped Jack off over his shoulder.

Chelsea leaned in uncomfortably close to Jack, bright green hair falling in both their faces. “You wanna know a secret?”

Jack cleared his throat shortly and shifted back to put a bit more distance between them. “Yeah, alright. What?”

“Laurie has aced all her exams, this semester. I’m pretty sure they’re at least a chapter or two ahead at this point.”

Jack glanced up from the dishes to look at Chelsea quizzically. “Okay...? What’s your point?”

Chelsea scoffed, tapping Jack on the head. “You’re just as thick as Charlie, I swear. She  _ doesn’t need his help _ , dumbass.”

Jack blinked. “Oh.” A little smirk spread across his face and he snickered, lifting a soapy hand to mime drawing a check mark in the air. “Yet another point in the ‘Jack Is Right’ column.”

A beat passed, and Chelsea dropped off the counter. “Want some help?” She reached for a dish towel before Jack could answer, and stepped over to the drying rack, rather closer to him than was actually necessary.

“Uh, sure.”

“So what’s up, Jack?” she asked, settling easily into her spot next to Jack as if she belonged there.

If it was possible to seductively dry a coffee mug, Chelsea was definitely doing it, glancing up at Jack through her eyelashes and biting her bottom lip in ‘concentration’.

Jack tried not to snicker, and almost succeeded. He quickly turned it into a cough, and cleared his throat. “Just a normal day, how ‘bout you?”

“I think I’ve got senioritis, and I’m a sophomore,” Chelsea grumbled. “Tell me it gets better.”

Jack chuckled. “If you like your major, it gets better. Remind me what you’re majoring in?” He deposited another mug in the dish rack.

Chelsea set to work drying the mug he had just washed. “English. Wanna be an author. You’re doing art, right?”

Jack brightened. “Yeah. English huh? I’ve got a friend in there, maybe you know him?” He paused and laughed a bit. “Never mind, that’s stupid. Just cause you got the same major don’t mean you’d know each other.”

“Try me.” Chelsea set the dishrag down in the drying rack and turned to face Jack, leaning one elbow on the counter.

“Davey Jacobs, just transferred from Berkeley.”

Chelsea frowned for a moment in thought, then burst out laughing. “Wait, do you mean ‘David’? Jewish guy, kinda tall, been outta class the last few days?”

Jack smirked, nodding. “Yeah, that’s the one. Sorry for the confusion, I like giving my friends nicknames. You know, ‘Crutchie’, ‘Davey’.” He very carefully inspected the bowl he had just rinsed. “So, Chelsea, other than sophomoritis, how’s school treatin’ ya?”

“Not bad.” She went back to drying dishes. “I’m not a straight-A student like Laurie or anything, but I’m getting by just fine.”

“Good, good...” Jack trailed off. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say, or how to continue this conversation. It was that he didn’t want to. But alas, there was no way out.

The dishes were finished, and Chelsea turned her back to the counter. “Can I see some of your art?”

Jac hesitated, drying his hands on a towel. “Uhhh, sure. Lemme go grab one of my sketchbooks.” He walked towards the bedroom, tossing Crutchie an enormous wink over Lauren’s head as he passed.

Crutchie glared at him as he went by, but went right back to chatting with Lauren about phylogenetic trees or some other biological bullshit.

Jack crossed the bedroom and opened the bottom drawer of his dresser where he kept all his full sketchbooks. He glanced through the jumbled pile quickly, aiming for one of his more recent, less personal collections. As he pulled his selection from the drawer, Jack caught a glimpse of one of his older books. He cringed a bit, and shoved another over top of it, blocking the little bit of masking tape on the cover that titled the book ‘Kathy’. Sighing, he pushed the drawer shut with his foot, and returned to the main room, prize in hand.

Chelsea was sitting on the kitchen counter again, swinging her Converse-clad feet gently. She smiled politely at Jack when he returned. “Whatcha got?”

He chuckled a bit. “You want a chair or something? We got those, yknow.” He went to the rickety card table that served as their dining table, and sat in one of the four, equally rickety chairs.

“Alright, smartass.” Chelsea scooted a chair right next to his and sat down.

It was a completely logical seating arrangement. They could both see the sketchbook. Jack still tensed a little bit when Chelsea’s shoulder brushed against his.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, and flipped to a random page, revealing a very detailed sketch of NYU’s language arts building. “Tada, something you can walk by every day, except now it’s flat and made of charcoal.”

“Holy shit!” Chelsea snatched the sketchbook out of his hands to get a closer look.

Jack laughed. “Calm down, it’s just a building.”

“You’re really good.” Chelsea flipped to the next page, which contained one of Jack’s many, many drawings of the Empire State Building.

He shrugged, ruffling a hand through his hair. “Sometimes, I guess.”

“Don’t be stupid. These are incredible.”

“Hey hey, I’m an artist. Being stupid is part of the brand.”

Chelsea wasn’t paying attention to Jack, anymore. Her focus had shifted onto Crutchie and Lauren. “Ohmigod, Jack, look,” she whispered, repeatedly slapping him in the shoulder.

“What what what?” he hissed, looking over into the living room. He choked, smothering a laugh at the scene laid out before them.

Lauren and Crutchie were both jammed into the same corner of the couch, and Lauren was practically in Crutchie’s lap as they pored over a formidable biology textbook. Crutchie was reading a section aloud, and Lauren was staring at him, practically glowing. It was cute, and tragic. Jack smiled with sad sympathy. Poor Lauren. Crutchie was the sweetest guy Jack knew, and also the most oblivious. This girl could’ve stripped naked and crawled right into his bed, and the dumb kid would’ve just asked if she was cold and needed another blanket.

Chelsea basically collapsed onto Jack. “They are so fucking cute.”

If Jack had been a cat, or perhaps a character in a Hayao Miyazaki movie, he would’ve gone all pink and bottle-brushy from embarrassed discomfort. “Poor dumb kid.” He chuckled awkwardly. “He’s got no clue.”

Mercifully, once Chelsea made her dramatic point, she sat up straight again. “ _ Please _ tell me he’s into her, too,” she begged, and there was suddenly a startling desperation plastered over her usual resting bitch face. “I don’t know what I’d do with her. Seriously.”

Jack hesitated. “Uh...I mean I don’t think he’s really noticed what’s going on...” He knew that whatever he told Chelsea would get back to Lauren, and he didn’t want to break the poor girl’s heart. Besides, maybe Crutchie  _ was _ into her. Though...if he was...he would’ve told Jack.

Chelsea chewed on her bottom lip. “I just don’t want her to get hurt, you know?” She looked up at Jack. “It’s her first year in college, and I  _ know _ he’s a junior, and he was her TA, and maybe that’s weird, but...” She sighed. “She really likes him, Jack.”

Jack groaned softly, dragging a hand through his hair and coming to rest on the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. She’s practically melted onto him.”

“Just let me know if he says anything, okay? If he’s not into her, maybe I can convince her to let it go.” Chelsea flipped to the next page in Jack’s sketchbook and snorted. “Really? The Brooklyn Bridge?”

Jack glanced at the open page. “That’s Brooklyn Bridge number twelve, actually.”

“Well,” Chelsea smiled, “maybe someday I’ll write a book and get you to illustrate it.”

Jack smiled. “If it's a book about the architecture of Manhattan, I’m your man.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jack chuckled, casting a glance over at the loud, bitchy, green-haired English major sitting next to him, completely engrossed in his old sketchbook. This was one of the first proper conversations he’d had with Chelsea, and she seemed a lot more three-dimensional than she first appeared. Maybe she wasn’t that bad, after all.


	10. Nothing Says Budding Romance Like Strategic Infanticide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and David go on a library date, and it doesn't go exactly as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had not planned on getting into Davey's significantly-less-tragic-than-Jack's backstory this early, but such is the way of RP.

Jack arrived at Davey’s residence hall on Saturday far earlier than was cool. They had agreed to meet at two-o’clock. It took about twenty minutes for Jack to walk from his apartment to Davey’s hall. Why then, you might ask, did he leave his apartment just after one o’clock?

It  _ wasn’t _ because he couldn’t wait to see Davey after just a few days without him. No. It definitely wasn’t that. He just didn’t have anything else to do.

Stopping outside the door to the building, Jack hesitated to text Dave and let him know he was there. It was barely one-thirty. “Honestly I should just go wait on a bench or something.” He muttered to himself as he began to type.  _ “Hiya Davey, I’m kinda early...guess I had a lot less to do this morning than I thought.” _

Davey’s reply came quickly.  _ “No problem. I’ll be down in a second.“ _

Jack didn’t bother to suppress the smile that lit up across his face.  _ “Better hurry, only 27 minutes till you’re late.” _

Davey exited the building exactly five minutes later, looking painfully adorable in a white button-down under a green sweater vest. His eyes lit up when they fell on Jack. “Hey.”

Jack was beaming. “You’re wearing a sweater vest.”

“Yes?” Davey frowned. “Is that— You don’t like it?”

Jack pressed a closed fist to his mouth, trying to smother the amusement in his voice. “No, it’s cute. Not at all dorky.”

Davey huffed. “Well, here,”—Jack didn’t notice the small gift bag Davey was carrying until he held it out towards him—“I have something for you. For looking out for me when I was in the hospital.”

“Oh shit, you didn’t have to do that.” Jack accepted the bag, holding the top open so he could glance inside. He was faced with four small tubes of oil paint in various shades of blue and one very fidgety David Jacobs.

“I don’t know much about paint, but the girl at the store said that was a good brand.”

Jack gaped. “Dave...wow.” He pulled the paints out so he could get a better look at them. “These are fantastic, you really didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

Jack playfully narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You’re not gonna make me paint a pigeon, are you?”

“Of course not,” Davey laughed. He acted for a moment like he would take Jack’s hand, but he pulled back and adjusted his sweater at the last second. “Um, okay, let’s go.”

Jack bit back a smile, and made sure to hold the little bag in his opposite hand, just in case Dave decided to try again. “Alright, where are we headed?”

Davey cleared his throat and fidgeted. “Well, I thought, um...” He glanced away from Jack. “Maybe we could go to the library? The real library, not the school library. Unless you don’t want to do that. That’s fine, too.”

Jack choked and quickly turned his burst of laughter into a coughing fit. “Library,” he managed to wheeze out. “Sounds good.”

Davey shook his head quickly. “No, really, if you don’t want to—”

Jack also shook his head. “No way. Library is actually an old favorite of mine.”

Davey stopped short. “Really?” He looked a little surprised, a little skeptical, a little relieved.

Jack shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly. “Yeah, it’s a good place to hang out when you don’t really have anywhere else to go...”

He wasn’t sure how much he wanted Davey to know about his life—His ‘tragic backstory’, as Crutchie put it. Dave seemed like a really nice, understanding guy, but even nice, understanding guys can get freaked out by too much crazy baggage.

Luckily, Davey just smiled and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

As they walked, Jack found himself having trouble focusing on the conversation. His mind kept drifting to his only real relationship before Katherine. They had been together for about four months when, over breakfast, they guy told Jack that there was ‘just too much shit’ and he had to ‘deal with his own stuff’. Perfectly fair, of course, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

Jack looked at Davey, who was happily talking about some philosopher or other whose work he was studying for one of his classes, as the two of them stepped into the library. He wondered how long it would take for Davey to decide there was ‘too much shit’.

“What’s your favorite book?” Davey asked as he made a beeline for the nearest shelf.

Jack chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets and trailing after him. “I dunno, I’m not a real heavy reader.”

“Then what did you do in the library, when you were a kid?”

Jack cleared his throat awkwardly, casting about for something believable, but he’d walked himself right into a corner. “Uh, slept, mostly. Applied for some jobs on the computers, that sort of thing.”

“Slept?” Davey took a book off the shelf and thumbed through it as he talked. “I mean, I guess it’s quiet.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, doesn’t cost anything to book a study room and just knock out for a few hours.”

“Can’t be all that comfortable, though.” Davey put the book back on the shelf and picked out another one, again thumbing through the pages, not reading, as though just having it in his hands  was a comfort. “Didn’t that throw off your sleep schedule? Sleeping during the day?”

Jack shrugged, looking unco mfortably at his shoe laces. “I guess, a little? I didn’t really have much of a schedule to worry about, back when I was sleeping here. It was more just...keeping warm...”

“What do you m ean?” Davey’s eyes never leaving the book in his hands. 

Jack knew he was digging himself further and further into a hole,, and there was no way out at this point. He cringed. “Well, if you’re stuck...out...in winter, it’s better to sleep during the day, ‘cause there’s more places open where you can hunker down and stay warm for at least an hour or two at a time. At night, if you can’t be inside, you wanna keep moving, so you don’t freeze.”

It was only at the end of his sentence that he realized Davey had looked up from his book to look at him instead, with an unreadable expression on his face. He tugged awkwardly at the edge of his jacket, having trouble meeting Davey’s eyes. It wasn’t that he was ashamed. His life had been less than ideal, but there’s no use hiding from the past. No, it wasn’t shame. It was fear. Everyone has a ‘crazy shit’ limit, everyone has deal breakers, and Jack wouldn’t lie to Davey, but he was afraid that ‘I used to be homeless and slept in a library’ might reach a bit too close to that limit.

After far too long for comfort, Davey’s expression softened. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he said, “but if you do, I’ll be here to listen.”

Jack shrugged again, kind of folding in on himself, and mumbled noncommittally.

Davey placed the book back on the shelf and turned his body towards Jack. “What’s your Hogwarts house?” he asked very seriously.

Jack blinked. “Uhh...Gryffindor I think, why?”

“Have you ever read them? The Harry Potter books?”

“Only the third one, when I was like, ten.”

Davey smiled. “You should.”

“That good, huh?” Jack chuckled lightly

“That good,” Davey confirmed. He wandered down the row, away from Jack. “I’m a Ravenclaw, by the way.”

Jack smirked. “Really, Mr. Too-Smart-To-Pay-For-School? I never woulda guessed.”

Davey shot Jack a look over his shoulder.

Jack shot a wink at him, still smirking, and followed him down the row. “Alright, what’s  _ your _ favorite book?”

“You’re going to make fun of me,” Davey groaned.

“No I won’t.” Jack braced an arm above himself, leaning on the shelves. “Come on, what’s your favorite?”

Davey focused on the top shelf, scanning over the titles there. “I have this book that’s the complete works of Charles Dickens. That’s my favorite.”

Jack couldn’t believe he had fallen this hard for such a nerd. “How very intellectual of you.”

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me!”

Jack grinned, dropping his arm as he straightened up and shrugged. “Eh, I’m a liar.”

“Good to know.” Davey pretended like he was going to throw a particularly large book at Jack, but held onto it at the last second instead of letting go.

Jack threw his hands up to catch the book, playfully scowling when the throw was pulled. He walked up closer to Davey. “So,” he bumped the side of his hip briefly against Dave’s. “Why are we in the library?”

Davey raised an eyebrow. “Why not?

Jack let out a little huff of laughter. “Fair enough. I suppose it fits our theme.” He began counting on his fingers. “First, I hit on you in the dining hall. Then I bought a date for the price of a pigeon. Then, we spent the night together in a hospital, and now, we’re in a library.” He nodded. “Sounds right to me.”

“Would you prefer we go to a coffee shop and make awkward small talk until we can’t bear it anymore?”

He laughed. “Oh that sounds delightful, let’s go.”

Davey took a smaller book off the shelf and actually threw it at Jack.

“Ey, whoa, hey!” Jack yelped, all elbows and knees as he attempted to block the projectile, which bounced off his upper arm and flopped to the floor.

Davey burst out laughing. “Wow. That was  _ very _ attractive.”

“Ah, shaddup.” Jack snatched the book up off the floor and shoved it back onto the shelf. “We’re gonna get thrown out if you don’t behave yourself!”

“You started it.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Quiet down. We’re in a library.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah.” He crossed his arms and leaned sideways against the shelf again. “So now what?”

“Now what?” Davey’s smile grew. “We currently have access to all the information we could possibly want to know.”

Jack couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter. “You’re such a  _ nerd! _ ”

“You love it.” Davey playfully shoved at Jack’s shoulder. “So, Jack Kelly, what do you want to know?”

* * *

_ “Ladies and gentlemen, the time is eight-forty-five, and the library will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please make your way to the front desk. Thank you.” _

The surprisingly loud, unsurprisingly monotone prerecording buzzed tinnily through the library’s speaker system, harshly bisecting Davey’s sentence explaining the hierarchy of dominance in monkey tribes.

Jack looked around in surprise, noticing that the library was nearly empty. For the past five hours—pausing for a quick coffee and snack run at about six o’clock—he and David had been holed up in a corner of the library basement that they had claimed as their own, clearly marking their territory with piles of books. At the start of this five hours, Jack had plopped down on the end of one of the rather crisp, blue couches that populated the library basement. Dave had claimed a somewhat worn out armchair nearby, with their selections stacked on the low table between them.

Jack had started with The Jungle Book, by Davey’s recommendation, while Davey himself dove into a biographical piece on Nathaniel Hawthorne. At the fourth interruption of, “Ey Dave, could a monkey actually do this?” he surrendered the paper in exchange for an animal encyclopedia. Soon, finding himself much more interested in the real animals than those in the novel, Jack had abandoned The Jungle Book and plopped down on the wide, plush arm of David’s chair so that he could read over his shoulder. After about an hour of this, a librarian had come by and scolded the boys for ‘disrespecting the furniture’, so Jack retreated to the couch, Dave in tow, so that they could continue reading. The encyclopedia, while informative, simply brought on more curiosity from the both of them, and after an expedition into the nonfiction section, the boys found themselves pretty deep in a pile of increasingly obscure and specific research papers.

Davey was currently on page four of a paper on infanticide in langurs. Jack initially insisted that Davey had picked up the wrong paper; they were after monkeys, not big cat cross breeds. Once corrected, he had settled down next to Davey to listen to him read aloud. Well, not so much listen as try oh so slowly and oh so subtly to scoot closer and slip his arm around his shoulders.

“So what she’s saying,” Davey explained, “is that the males kill the offspring of other males so that the females can reproduce again sooner. Presumably with the male that killed the infant.”

“That’s pretty messed up.”

Davey shrugged, closing the large book of animal behavior that contained the article. “Nature isn’t always pretty, I guess.”

Jack leaned back on the cushions, stretching. “Ehh, well, at least you’re always pretty.”

Davey fumbled the book, which crashed gracelessly to the floor.

Jack laughed. “You alright there Dave?”

“I’m fine.” Davey grabbed the book. He was blushing so hard, he looked like he had a fever.

Jack stood, still giggling a bit. “We should head out. If you’re still inside after the doors close, the librarians hunt you for sport.”

“You know from experience, I’m sure,” Davey said, standing next to him.

Jack nodded somberly. “It wasn’t just me on the streets, at first. We lost a lot of good men that day...”

Davey laughed. “Come on, we have to go.” He took Jack’s hand easily, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it, and started towards the stairs.

Jack’s eyes widened slightly as he looked at Davey’s hand in his, but he didn’t say anything. He simply closed his fingers around Davey’s, and followed. It wasn’t until they got outside that Davey seemed to realize, and he tensed a little, but he didn’t let go.

“Alright Dave, where we headed now?” Jack asked.

“Well, it  _ is _ almost nine o’clock, but...” Davey cringed himself into a smile. “Is it lame if I say I don’t want to go home yet?”

Jack laughed some more. “Well I wouldn’t want to keep you out past your bedtime. Where do you wanna go instead?”

Davey narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips to one side in a stupidly adorable expression of thought. He glanced over at Jack. “Ice cream?”

Jack smiled. “Yeah alright, ice cream sounds good.” He glanced at his watch. “I dunno what’s gonna be open much later though, so we better hurry.”

* * *

David firmly believed you could tell a lot about a person from the flavor of ice cream they prefer. It was one of those random things he enjoyed knowing about people. He made a mental note of Jack’s cookie dough ice cream, and rolled his eyes when Jack laughed at him for ordering plain vanilla. 

“It’s just so  _ boring! _ ” Jack exclaimed. “There’s so many options, why go with the most basic thing there is?”

“It’s delicious,” David argued as they settled in at a booth. “Why mess with something that’s already perfect?”

“At least get some hot fudge or something.” Jack gestured disappointedly at the plain white ice cream in front of David.

“I repeat, why mess with perfection?” David shoveled some ice cream into his mouth.

Jack rolled his eyes and dug a spoon into his own ice cream. “Hot fudge makes everything better, I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You didn’t get hot fudge.”

Jack gave him the most ridiculously intense look, and stood up. “You’re right. I’m a failure as a man.”

David reached out to grab his wrist and pulled him back down, giggling around his mouthful of perfectly delicious vanilla ice cream.

Jack tried to pull away, but not very hard. “No! Don’t try to stop me! I don’t deserve ice cream, or pity, after what I’ve done.” He paused, “Or, haven’t done, I guess.”

“You feel very strongly about this, don’t you?”

“I feel strongly about everything, Davey boy.” He winked at him.

If he kept that up, Davey was going to drop dead.

“Maybe next time,” Davey conceded, “if it means that much to you, I will try hot fudge.”

“Ooh, impressive.” Jack dropped an arm over Davey’s shoulders and pulled him a bit so he tilted towards him. “Are you sure you can handle it? That’s a lot of adventure for a little vanilla bean like you.”

And that’s when David’s brain completely stopped working.

Jack waited a second or two for him to answer, or respond in any way. When he didn’t, Jack laughed, dropping his arm and leaning back. “You alright, Davey?”

“No— I mean yes, I’m—”  _ Come on, David. _ He opened his mouth, and nothing more came out.

Jack was very pretty and very,  _ very _ sweet, and it made David’s head all fuzzy, and he hated that, but also loved it.

Jack snickered. “Man, you’re so easy.”

And then it all came to an abrupt halt, and David just felt numb. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean like that.” Jack quickly amended. “I just meant it’s easy to tease you.”

Where they had been sitting on the same side of the booth, David quickly moved himself to the other side and nervously ran his fingers through his hair several times.

Jack said he didn’t mean it like that, but was that really the truth? David had been suspicious of Jack’s intentions when they first met, but Jack had managed to convince him that he wasn’t that kind of guy. Was it all an act? David felt sick, and he knew he was being crazy, but memories of bad experiences stood in between his logic and his feelings.

“Whoa, hey.” Jack’s voice got real low and gentle as he watched David, clearly concerned. “Hey, I’m not gonna do anything. I was just playing, honest.”

David sat still, with his hands in his lap, staring down at what remained of his ice cream. “Is that how I come across, Jack?”

Jack shook his head. “Not at all. All I meant was you’re shy, so it’s easy to make you blush. I didn’t mean you’re  _ easy _ .”

“I know what you meant,” David snapped. “Just be honest with me, really. Is that what you thought when we met?”

Jack blinked and sat up straighter, startled by David’s sharpness. “I been tellin’ ya. No. I’ve never thought that about you.”

David wanted so badly to believe him. He took a couple deep breaths to calm himself down, and ended up looking out the window. The ice cream shop suddenly felt too small.

“Look.” Jack’s voice was hard, but not unkind. “Whatever I stepped in here, I didn’t mean to, and I didn’t know, but either way I’m sorry.”

David took one more deep breath and turned back to Jack. “I’m sorry for freaking out,” he said, and he hoped it didn’t sound as forced as it was.

Jack shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, I set you off.” He stood up, grabbing his bowl to throw it away. “I’m guessing you don’t want me around now, so I’m gonna head home.” He glanced out the window and then back to Davey with an almost imperceptible sigh. “I had fun tonight, and I’m sorry I upset you.”

“Jack, wait—” David was on his feet next to Jack before he knew what he was doing.

Jack paused, waiting for whatever David was going to say. The problem was that David had no idea what he  _ was  _ going to say. Jack had unknowingly dredged up an entire collection of awful emotions and made David feel like he was a sophomore in high school again—sad and betrayed and humiliated and so completely and utterly  _ worthless _ , but...

But.

This was  _ Jack _ . Jack made him feel special. He wanted to trust him. Shit, he liked him  _ so _ much. He didn’t want to ruin that. He’d regret it forever, if he did.

In a tiny flash of courage, and before it could fade away, he kissed Jack’s cheek. “I had fun, too.”

Jack smiled wanly. “I’m not pushin’, but if you ever want to talk about anything...”

“It’s in the past,” David said. “...mostly.”

Jack shrugged. “Past don’t make it stop hurtin’.”

And he was so goddamn right about that, it almost made David mad. Instead, that may have been the moment David Jacobs fell in love with Jack Kelly.

Jack grabbed David’s hand and lifted it to his face, pressing a brief kiss into his fingertips before dropping it. “Have a good night, Dave.” He headed to the door, dropping his styrofoam bowl in a trashcan on the way out.

David stayed in the shop for a while, sitting sideways on the booth with his knees pulled up to his chest, thinking about way too many things that he didn’t want to think about. It would take a really special person to help David get over his insecurities. He thought Jack might be that person. He just hoped he hadn’t chased him away for good, this time.


	11. Jack and Davey Don't Need More Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Davey run into each other at school. Chaos ensues.

Tuesday. That meant a morning shift at the diner, and then classes. It was four-forty-five, and Jack had some time before his evening class to grab something to eat. He didn’t want to trek all the way across campus to the dining hall, so he settled for vending machine snacks. Six dollars and three bags of chips, pretzels, and cheese crackers later, Jack settled in one of the big, uncomfortable chairs in the hallway of the Language Art building. Expressive Culture didn’t start for another thirty minutes, and Jack was—as usual—already exhausted. He considered setting an alarm on his phone and taking a nap, but as he was about to decide to do just that, a familiar voice distracted him.

“Come on, think outside the box a little. It won’t kill you,” said a girl that was definitely Chelsea.

Jack chuckled, wondering what poor sucker had gotten roped into her antics today.

Then, he heard another familiar voice respond, “I just don’t think every little detail has to mean something. Maybe the flowers are just freaking purple!” And that...that was  _ definitely _ David Jacobs.

Jack’s heart skipped at Davey’s voice, and then apprehension settled in. What if he was still mad about Saturday? What even  _ happened _ Saturday? Jack squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, unsure if he was hoping that they would walk over, or that they would just walk away. Of course, the moment Chelsea saw him, any chance of her and Davey just walking away dissipated faster than a sugar cube in boiling water.

“Hey, Jack! What are you doing here?” she asked, sauntering over with Davey trailing behind like an anxious duckling.

Jack smiled an almost pained smile, minorly contorting as he rose from his chair (Author’s note: Much in the way he recovered from shaking the governor’s hand).

“Hey, Chelsea. I’m just waiting for my next class.” He meant to keep his gaze trained on her, but his eyes kept darting past her to Davey.

Chelsea nodded. “Cool, cool. Hey, you said you know David, right?” She gestured to the fidgety boy beside and just behind her. He looked like he was using Chelsea as a shield.

Jack kept his smile securely strapped on his face as he nodded and met his eyes. “Yeah. What’s up, Dave?”

Davey smiled a little, but maybe he only did that to be polite... “Nothing, now. My other class got canceled.”

“Lucky bastard,” Chelsea laughed under her breath.

Jack nodded, feeling so awkward that he could practically taste it. “Nice...” He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do.

“How’s Charlie?” Chelsea asked, sitting down on the arm of the chair in which Jack had been just moments before. At Jack’s incredulous look, she added, “Laurie will kill me if I don’t ask.”

“Uh, ‘Charlie’ is fine.” He cast another glance towards Davey, then back at Chelsea. “Anything special I should tell him—Okay, is this a thing now? Us playing carrier pigeon? They aren’t even a thing, is this a thing?”

Chelsea threw her hands up. “Hell if I know.”

“I’m sorry,” Davey cut in, “how do you two know each other?”

Jack laughed a little. “Well her Little has a huge crush on my roommate—“

Chelsea cut in. “Your wife.”

“—my wife, and he was her tutor for like biology or something last year, but he still helps her study. And that’s how  _ they  _ know each other, and for god knows what reason, we’re deeply involved.”

“Deeply,” Chelsea agreed.

Davey nodded slowly, glancing between Chelsea and Jack. “Okay.”

Jack shrugged. “It ain’t much but it’s honest work.”

Chelsea’s phone made a little noise. She pulled it out of her pocket and activated the screen. “Shit, that’s one of my Sisters. I have to go.” She stood, turning to David. “I’ll text you about the homework.” She turned to Jack. “See ya later, boo.” With a wink, she disappeared around the corner.

Which left Jack alone with Davey, who still looked super uncomfortable.

Jack frowned a little and opened his mouth to say something in regards to Chelsea calling him ‘boo’, but she was already gone. He sighed, turning his gaze back to Davey. Subconsciously, he moved slightly to grip the hem of his hoodie. “So...”

Davey just dove right into it... “Jack, I’m sorry about the other night. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I need to learn to control my feelings better. I mean, I’m twenty, I—” ...and didn’t show any intention of stopping any time soon.

Jack blinked rapidly, caught off guard by the outpouring of words. “Hey, hey, hold on. Age ain’t got nothin’ to do with feelings. Maturity is a myth. But more than that, you don’t gotta apologize. Clearly I stepped in something, and whatever it is, it’s your business.”

“Can we just...” Davey sighed. “Can we forget that ever happened?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, sure, whatever you want.”

There was a pause, in which Jack intensely studied the carpet beneath his feet. “I ain’t gonna ask, and I ain’t gonna push, but if you ever wanna talk...”

“I don’t,” Davey said quickly. “But thank you.”

Jack nodded, still staring at the carpet.

“So,” Davey said. “Chelsea has a crush on you.”

Jack looked up and saw that Davey was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He let out an awkward chuckle. “Yeah...it’s not ideal.”

Davey seemed to relax a little. “I meant what I said last week, you know,” he said, changing the subject, “when we were texting and you called me a dumb fuck.” He laughed. “I’m lucky I met you.”

Jack cringed at the ‘dumb fuck’ bit. “Yeah, I’m still real sorry about that. If you knew Race, you’d know it was accurate.” A little smile ventured into his face. “I think I’m the lucky one though, in this case.”

Davey rolled his eyes, but of course he was blushing and trying not to smile.

Jack chuckled. “It’s nice to have something, well,  _ nice _ , for once.”

“You need higher standards.”

“Hey you’re the one hangin’ around me, you don’t have much to say about standards.”

“Please.” Davey finally broke into a grin. “You’re handsome and talented, and I’m a hot mess who can’t eat shrimp.”

Jack gaped for half a second before bursting into proper laughter.

“What?” Davey asked. “What are you laughing at? I mean it!” But he was laughing, too.

“You can’t eat shrimp?”

Davey shook his head. “It’s not kosher!”

Jack shook his head slowly. “What a tragic life you must live.”

“I guarantee you,” Davey scoffed, “not eating shrimp is the least of any Jew’s worries.”

Jack let out a laugh. “Yeah, alright, that’s fair.”

“Do you want to, um, hang out or something after your class?” Davey fidgeted a little. “No pressure, of course.”

Jack smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He glanced at his watch briefly, and immediately again, with urgency. “Shit, my class!” He yanked his book bag off of the chair and threw it over his shoulder. “Text me?”

“If you’re lucky.”

* * *

“Who’s worried about cleaning the apartment for guests now, loverboy?” Crutchie jeered, batting Jack on the back of the head.

“Listennn.” Jack dragged the end of the word out as he picked laundry off the floor and shoved it into a basket. “This is totally different.”

Crutchie leaned on the doorframe between the living room and bedroom. “Why? Because you want to get into his pants?”

Jack grinned at him. “Well yeah.”

“Jews are supposed to be circumcised, you know.”

He blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Crutchie shrugged. “Potentially, I know more about Dave’s dick than you do.”

Jack burst into laughter. “You’re such a slut.”

Crutchie groaned and rolled around the doorframe into the living room. “I haven’t gotten any since senior year, and you know it!”

Now it was Jack’s turn to lean on the doorway of sass. “Maybe if you opened your eyes and looked around you, you’d see plenty of opportunity just waiting for you to make a move.”

“I’m leaving,” Crutchie called. “Have fun. Use protection.”

“Don’t worry, I already checked under the beds for monsters, we’re all good.” Jack concluded his reply to the closing front door, snickering.

With a heavy exhalation, he started straightening up the living room—not so much that it was unrealistically tidy for a bachelor pad, but enough that you could see the coffee table without having to work around piles of dishes and a couple pizza boxes. Once he finished straightening it, he straightened it again, and one more time before he finally heard a knock on the door. He abandoned his crusade against the blankets on the couch, and went to answer it, catching the handle and swinging it open.

Davey stood in the hall with his hands in his pockets, looking a little lost. He brightened when he saw Jack. “Hi.”

Jack beamed. “Hiya, Davey. How’s it goin’?”

“Good. You?”

“Better now.” He winked, and kicked the door a bit so it swung wider. “Come on in.”

“So, this is where you live,” Davey said, looking around the living room. “It’s a lot nicer than the dorms, that’s for sure.”

Jack nodded. “Crutchie.” As if that explained everything.

Davey nodded. “Right...”

“Living room, kitchen.” Jack gestured vaguely around the big room. “Bathroom’s that one, bedroom’s the other.” He said, pointing at the two doorways that weren’t the front door or a closet.

Davey took a few more steps into the living room. He gestured at a painting on the wall. “Is that yours?”

“Ah, yeah.” Jack scratched the back of his head, a tiny bit embarrassed. “All of ‘em are. Crutchie won’t let me put them away.”

Davey looked at them in awe. “They’re amazing, Jack. You’re amazing.”

He waved dismissively. “Ehh, they’re okay.”

“And you’re ridiculous.” Davey looked around again. “Where’s Charlie?”

“Laundromat.” He jerked his head towards the door, as if indicating the direction his roommate had gone nearly forty-five minutes before.

Davey seemed satisfied enough with that answer. He finally took his hands out of his pockets. “So, um.” He shrugged. “What’s the plan?”

Jack also shrugged. “Don’t really have one...” He glanced around the apartment, searching for inspiration. “Uh, we got movies, Mario Kart, a couple board games...”

Davey perked up. “What board games?”

Jack stepped over to one of the bookshelves flanking the TV. “Concept, Monopoly, Uno, Werewolf, Clue, Battleship...” He frowned. “Coulda swore we had Pictionary here somewhere.”

“Do you have any board games that won’t inevitably destroy our relationship?”

He laughed. “Hang on, I think Crutchie still has Candyland hidden somewhere.” Jack crossed to the bedroom, disappearing to rummage around in Crutchie’s closet. He found it under a pile of old notebooks, and returned to the living room. “It’s one of the old copies, before the design got super creepy.” Jack moved a little towards Davey. “So uh,” he looked up from the game towards him, “‘relationship’, huh?”

Davey held Jack’s gaze intently. “That can mean anything,” he said. There was a playful lilt in his voice.

Jack smirked. “Fair enough. Though ‘I’m about to totally skunk you’ isn’t really up for interpretation.” He dropped the box on the coffee table.

Davey snorted. “At Candyland?”

Jack nodded. “Don’t underestimate how devastating it can be to lose at a kid’s game.”

“The voice of experience, I’m sure.” Davey sat down on the couch and made himself comfortable. “Or it’s about to be, because I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Jack laughed. “Crutchie’s a beast, you don’t even wanna know.” He plopped down in their overstuffed armchair and went about shuffling the cards.

Davey grabbed them from him. “I don’t trust you.”

Jack gasped in mock outrage. “You callin’ me a cheat?”

“Shut up...cheater.”

He laughed. “Puh-lease, I don’t need to cheat to win.”

“You will.”

Davey was good at shuffling cards. Jack didn’t know why he noticed that, but he did. He had obviously played a lot of board games in his life. Jack’s smile faltered as, unbidden, a wave of jealousy struck him. What had growing up been like for Davey Jacobs? With a family. A home. Proper meals and family game nights. Hanukkah and birthdays and Fourth of July cookouts. Camping trips and days at the neighborhood pool. Jack almost laughed. To think of having a neighborhood at all, instead of a smelly city block downtown. His dad probably taught him how to ride a bike and catch a baseball. He probably helped his mom make lemonade and chocolate chip cookies. There was a pretty good chance of him reading bedtime stories to his little brother, and staying up late sharing secrets with his sister.

Now, Jack had Crutchie, and he had for a good long time. But there were many long years before Crutchie. Many years of being alone.

He remembered one of the few times he had managed to stay with a foster family long enough to see Christmas. He was seven, and he’d only been with them since September, but things were going really well this time. They were nice. He shared a room with their son, Brandon, who was nine. Brandon didn’t really like Jack, but that was okay. Jack tried his best to make friends anyway. Christmas morning, when the family all went downstairs to see the Christmas tree, Jack had paused just before coming around the corner. His whole life he’d dreamed of a proper family holiday, with piles of presents, and cookies, and music, and laughter, and enough happiness and love that the room could burst.

This wasn’t that. There were piles of presents, yes, but only two of them were for Jack. Mr. and Mrs. Bleekman had bought him a scarf, it was scratchy, and green.

“Your favorite color!” Mrs. Beekman had said. It wasn’t.

His other present was an RC car from Brandon, but Jack barely got to play with it before he demanded a turn, and he never got it back.

The room was full of happiness and love, certainly, but hardly any of it belonged to Jack. He felt so clearly how much he wasn’t part of this family. How they weren’t his, and he wasn’t theirs. Not even a month later the Bleekmans sat Jack down at the kitchen table to explain to him he would be going back to the group home. “It just wasn’t a good fit.” Mr. Bleekman had said, in what he thought was a kind and logical voice. Jack didn’t understand then, and he didn’t understand now, what he had done wrong—why they hadn’t wanted him.

He didn’t notice that Dave had finished shuffling the cards and set them in a neat pile between them.

“You ready?” Davey asked, but then he looked up as Jack, and his expression turned instantly to one of concern. “Hey, are you alright?”

Jack startled, eyes coming back into focus and snapping first to Davey, then the cards on the table. “Wh— yeah, yeah I’m fine. I go first?” He picked up a card, and moved his piece to the next yellow square, as indicated on the card.

“Getting a head start, eh?” Davey winked. “You’re gonna need it.”

* * *

Jack and David played three games of Candyland (Jack declared best two out of three after he lost the first game, and proceeded to win the next two) before deciding to order pizza. Jack was horrified to learn that mixing meat and dairy isn’t kosher, and therefore David couldn’t eat meat on pizza. They turned on Star Wars: A New Hope and lounged on opposite sides of the couch with David’s legs on top of Jack’s in the middle.

Just being with Jack was good. It was easy. David had never felt so comfortable in another person’s home. He felt like he belonged there.

“Did you know that Mark Hamill didn’t realize Luke was the protagonist until John Williams was saying how everyone got a piece of music that was  _ theirs _ , and Mark Hamill said something like ‘wait I don’t have one, where’s Luke’s?’ and John Williams had to explain to him that the main theme of the score was Luke’s.”

David leaned his head up to look over at Jack. He quirked an eyebrow. “And you call me a nerd?”

“Hey you know dumb stuff. I know  _ cool _ stuff.”

“Yeah?” David leaned his head back down on the armrest and closed his eyes. He liked listening to Jack talk. “Like what?”

Without hesitation, Jack began spitting useless fact after useless fact, along with an honestly concerningly large amount of Star Wars lore and trivia. David smiled, knowing he wouldn’t remember most of these facts but listening nonetheless. Jack never failed to surprise him.

Jack also never shut up. Right now he was babbling about how old fashioned printing presses work, and why they stopped being used. David found it fascinating. Really, he did. It’s just that Jack’s voice was so soothing, and it was the perfect temperature in the apartment, and the worn out couch was squishy in all the right ways. David’s head began to lull to one side.

After a few minutes he realized that Jack had stopped talking.

He reluctantly opened his eyes. “Jacky?” he murmured, squinting in the silvery light cast by the television.

Jack let out a noise somewhere between a choke, a laugh, and a gasp. “Yeah, Dave?”

“You got quiet.” David sat up to see Jack better.

The boy was smiling widely but softly. “You got sleepy.”

David rubbed at his eyes and turned so he was sitting normally on the couch. “Yeah. What time is it?”

Jack glanced at his watch. “About 10:30, not too late.”

“Really?” David had a hard time believing that.

The credits for A New Hope began rolling.

“Do you want to watch The Empire Strikes Back?” David asked, still slurring his words slightly. “It’s the best one.”

Jack snickered. “You sure you can stay awake?”

David ran his fingers through his hair, considering. He probably couldn’t, but he didn’t want to go back to the dorms. “No,” he sighed, “but I’ll do my best?”

Jack smiled softly. “You can just sleep here, yknow, if you want.”

David’s heart fluttered. He definitely wanted to do that, but a little voice in his brain said it was too fast, too much, too risky. “I don’t want to impose.”

Jack shook his head. “It’s not a problem.”

Not a problem. And Star Wars was so good, and Jack was so...everything, and, “This couch is really comfy.”

He nodded. “Isn’t it the best? We found it for like, thirty dollars at an old resale store. Crutchie thought it musta had bed bugs or something but nope!”

“Mmhm.” David was already falling asleep again. He blinked his eyes to keep them open. “So, do you want to watch The Empire Strikes Back or no?”

Jack snickered. “I got it, Sleeping Beauty.” He stood up and went over to the tv to switch out the DVDs

David chucked a decorative pillow at Jack for the nickname. It bounced off his back and he laughed, snatching it off the floor as he returned to sit on the couch. He placed the pillow on his lap, looked at David, and patted the pillow. “I make a good pillow as is, but now I’m pillow squared.”

David snorted. “And here I thought you were all right brain and no left.”

He smirked. “I got just as much brain as you do, Dave. Mine’s just a bit emptier.”

“No,” David said, not knowing exactly where he meant to go with it, just knowing what Jack said was wrong. “No, your brain’s just full of colors and shapes and pictures and beautiful things,”—he looked again at the paintings on the wall—“and mine is full of words.”

A small smile spread across Jack’s face. “Yeah...Yeah alright I’ll buy that.” He patted the pillow again. “Now are you gonna lie down or not?”

Oh. David hadn’t realized— “You actually want time to use you as a pillow...” He cringed. “Again?”

Jack faltered, and moved the pillow from his lap to the couch. “You’re right, sorry, that’s weird.”

“It’s not weird.” David grabbed Jack’s hand instinctively, and by the time he noticed, it was too late to go back. “I’m just...I don’t know...surprised?” He chuckled. “I feel like I’ve been nothing but trouble for you.”

The edges of Jack’s mouth pricked up in a tiny smile the second David’s hand touched his. “Maybe I like trouble.”

Oh no. Uh-uh. Absolutely  _ not _ . David was  _ not _ going to let his brain freeze up on him again. No matter how incredibly hot Jack was, and no matter how much hotter than normal he was in that moment, David was not going to say or do something stupid. Like for instance, stammering, “C—cool. Yeah. Okay.”

Which is exactly what he did.

Jack laughed. “I’ve had a lot of trouble in my life. You, Davey Jacobs, are no trouble.”

He was smiling at him again. That damn smile that could’ve knocked over a brick wall. It was a crooked, barely there sort of smile, sometimes so fast that you could only tell it was there by the residual buzzing feeling in your stomach, and the look that stayed in Jack’s eyes even after he’d changed the subject.

“What am I, then?” David asked quietly, only then becoming self-conscious of their proximity to one another.

“Well, for one, you’re very pretty.” Had Jack scooted closer? It seemed like he had scooted closer. “You’re smart, too. And kosher! Is that an adjective? Like vegetarian? A kosher person? Or did I just call you special meat?”

David held it together for approximately four seconds before bursting into rather loud laughter, collapsing onto Jack’s shoulder.

Jack laughed with him. “No, I’m being serious!”

“I honestly don’t know,” David said. “I think ‘kosher people’ are generally called ‘Jewish’.”

“Oh my god,” Jack continued to laugh.

David sat back up and looked at him. “What?”

“I just called you special meat!”

Which was, objectively, hilarious, but David was too distracted by how adorable Jack looked when he laughed for the full scope of the humor to settle in. Jack’s laughter died down, and he narrowed his eyes a tiny bit at Davey, still smiling.

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?” His voice was soft, and low, and somehow different.

_ Because you’re the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen and I can’t believe you’re real _ , David thought. He smiled back. “Why not?”

“Fine,  _ don’t _ tell me.” He gently shoved David’s chest with one hand.

David didn’t move, and suddenly he and Jack were only a few inches apart, and still holding hands, and Jack’s other hand was on David’s chest, and David couldn’t fucking breathe.

Jack bit his bottom lip, eyes darting quickly to Dave’s mouth and then back up to his eyes. In an instant he closed the distance between them, moving his hand from Davey’s chest to the back of his head as he kissed him, hard. And in another instant it was over, and Jack was standing up, loudly declaring that he was thinking about ordering pizza.

“We already ordered pizza,” David reminded him blankly. “We already ate the pizza.” David couldn’t think. The poor guy’s head was spinning. What had just happened? “ _ Wait _ ,” he borderline shouted.

Jack froze, mid-step towards his phone that was sitting on the kitchen counter.

This time, David said exactly what he was thinking: “What the hell was that!?”

Jack turned slowly to face him, face the tiniest bit pink. “Uhh, a kiss, I think.”

“You think?” David deadpanned, staring him down.

A tiny smile slid onto his face. “Yeah, pretty sure.”

David tried to start a sentence several times before one stuck. “Then what’s all this?” He gestured to Jack’s placement in the room. “What are you doing? And would it  _ kill _ you to ask, one of these times!?”

“I’m sorry...” Jack’s face fell. “You’re right, I’m a jerk.” He groaned. “It’s just that when you’re too close my head gets all fuzzy and my chest is tight and I know if I don’t touch you I won’t be able to breathe again.” Jack was properly blushing by now. “And I know that ain’t an excuse to just go ahead without askin’—“

David interrupted. “May I kiss you, Jack?”

“‘May I’?” he choked, clearly trying very hard not to laugh.

Davey smirked. “Well, I know I  _ can _ .”

“Oh  _ ho _ , can you now?” Jack scoffed, grinning.

“Is this really the time to be sassing me?”

“It’s always sass o’clock in this household.” He winked one of those awful, adorable, overdone winks with a little dip of his head and an open mouthed, crooked grin built right into it.

David couldn’t believe him. “You never answered my question.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, coming back towards the couch and placing a foot on the arm of it, leaning forward and crossing his arms over his bent knee. “And which question might that be?”

Two can play at that game. “Huh,” David tilted his head. “You know? I think I’ve forgotten it. Never mind.” He turned forward towards the television, where The Empire Strikes Back played on, forgotten until that moment.

Jack laughed, stepping up over the arm and onto the couch, dropping himself down to sit so close beside Davey that he nearly landed on him.

“Careful!” David scolded him, but there was no bite to it. He looked back at the screen. “This really is the best Star Wars movie.”

“Yeah, alright.” Jack shook his head, still chuckling, and leaned back against the cushions, easily dropping his arm across the back of the couch, right behind Davey.

Classic. David bit his lip to keep from smiling. “I know what you’re doing, you know. Just put your arm around me. You don’t need to be weird about it.”

Jack looked at him in surprise. “What on earth are you talking about? I’m just gettin’ comfy. Gotta settle in for the best Star Wars movie, don’t I?” He gestured to the tv with his other hand.

David gave him a look.

Jack smiled a gentle, blithe smile.

Giving up, David settled in and turned his attention to the movie. As he leaned back, Jack grinned. Just looking at him for a moment before turning to watch the movie.

There was silence for about three minutes, and then Jack inclined his head sideways towards Davey’s ear. “You may, by the way.” And he straightened up again.

David tensed up. Seriously? No. If Jack was going to play hard to get, David was determined to do the same.

Easier said than done, as it turns out.

Sitting quietly, just watching the movie, it seemed almost unintentional when Jack’s arm drifted forward off the back of the couch, to settle properly across Davey’s shoulders. He began lightly tracing lazy patterns with his fingers across the side of his upper arm. Goddamnit. Okay, there had to be a compromise here. 

David turned his head and kissed Jack gently on the cheek.

Jack snorted, looking at him incredulously. “You call that a kiss?”

“Yes.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little as he turned his gaze back to the movie. “I expected better work from you, Mr. Scholarship.”

“My scholarship is for English,” David reminded him, “not kissing.”

Jack waved his free hand in a dismissive gesture between two objects that weren’t actually there. “Ehh, same difference, both is mouth stuff.”

“English is writing stuff,” David corrected him.

“You speak English, don’t’cha? That’s usin’ your mouth.”

Like talking to a brick wall. Davey threw his hands up. “It’s not the same thing.”

Jack snickered. “I think it’s the same thing.”

“That’s why you’re an  _ art _ major.”

“You sayin’ I ain’t smart?”

“No, I’m saying you don’t know about English.”

“I speak it don’t I?”

“Uh...” David chuckled awkwardly. “Well, your grammar could be better.”

Jack rolled his eyes hard enough that his head followed, circling around to tilt towards Davey. “‘Ey Dave can I—“

David’s mouth was on Jack’s before Jack had a chance to finish, and more importantly, before David had a chance to change his mind. It was soft, a complete departure from when Jack kissed him a few minutes before. Jack responded right away, kissing back eagerly, but matching Dave’s intensity. He shifted to face him, sliding a hand up to settle at the nape of his neck. David’s hands fell on Jack’s hips, but he couldn’t feel anything except Jack’s lips on his lips and Jack’s hand on his neck. Jack was a way better kisser than anyone had any right to be, and David wondered what he did in a past life to end up here—kill Hitler? Also, when did he end up in Jack’s lap? One of Jack’s arms had slipped around David’s back, holding tightly onto him. The other hand was slowly tangling in his hair. David could tell that Jack was reigning himself in. Being careful. His kisses were eager, but gentle, not pushing past whatever pace David set. No one had ever been like that with him. Jack was something entirely new and different. Jack intoxicated him. Jack was like standing on the edge of a cliff and not being afraid of falling. David knew he could get addicted to that very quickly.

Jack’s hands moved slowly, trailing across Davey until he had a gentle grip on both his arms, just below his shoulders. As he moved, his kisses became lighter and lighter, until it was just a whisper, and he gently shifted David away, breaking the kiss entirely. He was smiling, barely there, but still enough to make David’s heart skip when he looked at him. David knew he should say something. He was sitting in the man’s lap after kissing him for a solid minute and a half. He should say something, but he had no clue where to even start. Jack kissed him like he was something special, something to be appreciated. David’s head was filled with words, and none of them described how that made him feel.

Jack narrowed his eyes, the smile growing a bit wider. “You’re thinking somethin’. What is it?”

“It’s...a lot,” David admitted. “It’s a lot, and I don’t actually know how to say it.”

Oh, oh it was a smirk, not a smile. “What happened to that English degree, huh?”

“I don’t have it yet. I’m a sophomore.” David smirked back.

“That would explain it.” Jack nodded sagely.

David felt a warm blush spread across his face. “That was, um...”

“Yeah, it was...” Jack’s hands slipped from his arms down to his hips, and rested there.

David wanted to ask what he was to Jack, what kind of relationship Jack wanted with him, but he was terrified of the answer, and he wasn’t entirely sure which answer he was most terrified of. 

He asked anyway, “What are we doing?”

Jack blinked. “Watching Star Wars, I thought...” He was smirking again.

“I don’t mean right now,” David clarified. “I mean in general, what are we doing? With each other? What—” He sighed, annoyed at the words that wouldn’t come.

“Oh.” Jack paused for an unpleasantly long time, looking at the tv, but clearly not really seeing it. He finally looked up at Davey again, and when he spoke, his voice was low, and careful, almost guarded. “What do you  _ want _ us to be doing?”

David put his hands on Jack’s shoulders. “I like what we have going on, Jack. I really do. I just don’t know what it  _ is _ . I mean, is this a fling for you? Or some kind of friends-with-benefits type deal? Or...” He dropped his gaze as his nerves got the best of him. “Or something else?”

“Hey,” Jack lifted a hand, using two fingers on Davey’s chin to tilt his face back towards him, meeting his eyes. “I like it too. This isn’t some sorta nothin’. Not with you.”

“Then what is it?” David insisted.

He dropped his hand. “I dunno Davey, we ain’t ever talked about it. I know what I want outta this, but I don’t know what you want.”

“Shit, I don’t know, It’s never been like this before!” David sat back, still very much in Jack’s lap, but with a little more space to breathe. He ran his fingers through his hair and over his face, never completely still.

“Hey hey hey,” Jack managed to catch ahold of one of his flighty hands, and gently pressed it to his lips. “Just tell me what you want Davey, this can be whateva’ you want it to be, okay?”

David sighed. “Okay. First of all, I fucking love it when you call me ‘Davey’.”

Jack smiled and mumbled something, still holding Dave’s hand against his lips.

David huffed. “I couldn’t hear that.”

He shook his head. “Nothin’, go on.”

(Author’s not: For the record, he said “and I fucking love you”, but he’d rather die than tell Davey that)

“Second,” David dropped his gaze again, “Jacky, I’m  _ afraid _ to get attached to you, okay?” He let out a bitter laugh. “I’m sure that’s super obvious by now, right?”

“What are you afraid of?” Jack continued playing with Davey’s hand, placing his own palm to palm and moving Davey’s fingers with his, tracing circles on the back of his hand with his thumb, and so on.

David shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about that. “I don’t know.”

“Well, then don’t be.” He planted a kiss in his palm. “Like I says, this is whatever you want it to be.”

If David’s heart beat any faster, he and Jack would end up spending the night in the hospital again. “Then, if I want to be more than friends?”

Jack nodded, now just closing his hand around David’s and holding it to his chest. “Then we’s more than friends.”

David looked at him, dumbfounded. “Really?” It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

He nodded, with a little shrug. “I mean you didn’t bring me a pudding cup, so I dunno how serious you wanna get.”

David ignored his joke. “What does that make us, then?”

“That’s up to you.” He smiled at him, blindingly sincere.

David groaned, “Help me out here, Jacky, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Jack laughed. “Alright, alright.” He shifted a little under David, moving around to get more settled and comfortable. “You said you want more than friends, right?”

“Yes, I did.”

“So, how  _ much _ more? Do you want something real lazy and casual? Do you want something big? What do you want?”

“What do  _ you _ want?” David knew he was stalling. He wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t force the right words out of his mouth.

Jack shrugged. “I want you, Davey.”

The swirling torrent of thoughts in David’s mind came crashing to a halt. “I think I want to be yours,” he told Jack.

There was a moment of silence as Jack just looked at him, unmoving. Not even smiling.

“Hey Dave?”

David’s racing heart skipped several beats. “Yes?”

“You’re a dork.”

Oh god, one of these days he was going to kill him. “You’re an ass.”

“Yeah but now I’m  _ your _ ass.” He tossed out another dumb, over the top wink.

“You’re my—” David shook his head. “...You are as smooth as a gravel road, Jack Kelly.”

As David was talking, Jack slid both his hands up his back to tangle in his hair. “Mmm, yeah but you like it.” There was a purr in his voice as he pulled Dave closer to him, and the end of his sentence ran right into the start of a kiss.

“Wait.” David pulled away after just a moment. “In all seriousness, though, are we boyfriends? Is that a thing, now?”

Jack dropped his hands, flopping back against the couch with a little chuckle. “If that’s what you want, yeah.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Davey, sweetie, you wouldn’t be sittin’ on me like this if I wasn’t okay with it,” he snickered.

“Jack, I’m so far in the closet, I’ve got one foot in Narnia.” David flopped off Jack and sideways onto the couch. “I can’t eat meat and dairy in the same meal. I’ve got serious intimacy issues.”

Jack looked confused. “I don’t see how the diet thing factors in...”

“It’s a pain in the ass,” David explained.

He chuckled. “Okay. But the other stuff...”

“I’m telling you that I’m more trouble than I’m worth,” David sighed.

“I think that’s my call, Dave,” Jack said gently. “Besides, I like trouble, remember?” He winked.

“You went on to tell me that I am not trouble.” David smiled up at him. “You’re very confusing.”

“All part of the Jack Kelly charm, baby.” He crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back against the couch.

Fuck, he was pretty.

David grabbed the decorative pillow and set it on Jack’s lap. “I’m using you as a pillow, now.”

A beautiful, comfortable smile stretched onto Jack’s face. “I should warn you, you’ll never be content with a regular pillow again.”

“Doesn’t matter.” David made himself comfortable with his head on the pillow in Jack’s lap. “You’re my boyfriend, now. This is your job.”

Jack’s face lit up like a sunbeam. “Whatever you say, bossman.”

David snorted. “No. Absolutely not. Try again.”

“Uh...no way, underpaid-wage-worker-man?”

“Oh my god, you’re insufferable, and I don’t even have a pillow to hit you with,” David lamented.

He ended up resting one of his hands on Jack’s knee. Smiling softly, Jack moved a hand down to gently run his fingers through Davey’s hair, not bothering with a verbal response. David knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake. He didn’t care. He had found something good; no way was he letting it go.


	12. Jack Is Sleeping with Davey and Race Is Sleeping with Spot Conlon but with Vastly Different Connotations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what's in the chapter title, and Sarah is too smart for Davey's good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister and I are churning out this bullshit faster than we can edit it. We just finished chapter 21. Send help.
> 
> Also, as of this chapter, The Torrid Affair of Kack Jelly and Kosher Dave from Manhattan is officially a novel. I repeat, send help.

At about seven a.m., Jack’s internal alarm clock went off. He groaned. Why did it feel like someone had tried to bend his back the way you’d close a book? Opening his eyes, there was a moment of confusion as he wasn’t quite sure where he was. Then all the details of last night’s goings-on came back, and a wide grin spread across his face.

Yesterday, he hadn’t expected to end up with a boyfriend by nightfall, yet here he was.

And here  _ he _ was. Over the course of the night, Jack had slumped further down into the couch, and Davey had shuffled his way half on top of Jack, with his head resting on Jack’s chest and an arm thrown up over his shoulder. Jack watched him silently and began dragging gentle patterns across his back with his fingertips. From the moment he first clapped eyes on him, Jack had thought Davey Jacobs was beautiful, But he hadn’t expected to feel this different, looking at him now that he was his. Now, he wasn’t just beautiful, he was intoxicating.

Davey shifted slightly, cuddling even closer into Jack. His hair was all messy and his clothes were wrinkled. Jack had never seen him look anything but perfectly put-together before. Slightly disheveled Davey was freaking adorable. Jack tilted his head down and gently kissed the top of Davey’s head, wrapping his arm around him and holding him tight against him. He could get used to this. He hadn’t felt this way about anyone since Katherine, and even then, it wasn’t quite the same. Davey wasn’t Katherine, he was Davey—sweet, smart as all hell, a little bit guarded and a little bit fiery David Jacobs. Jack didn’t know if he was ready to fall in love again, but if he had to be in love with someone, he thought Davey was a pretty damn good someone.

Davey shifted again and made a quiet, sleepy sound. He lay still for a few moments, and Jack didn’t think he had woken up, until he heard a soft, “Jacky?”

“Yeah, Dave?” Jack answered quietly.

“You awake?”

He chuckled. “Nope, I’m just a very eloquent sleep talker.”

“Hmmm.” Davey ran the palm of his hand down Jack’s arm. “They should put you in the circus.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jack snorted.

“Put you in the circus.” Davey said, pushing himself up on his elbow just enough to look at Jack’s face. “You know—clowns, the bearded lady, the very eloquent sleep talker.”

Jack snickered. “Yeah alright, sure. Bet I’d make a fortune.”

“Get to travel lots of cool places, too.” Davey lay back down on Jack’s chest.

Jack nodded. “It would get me outta New York, that’s for sure.”

There was silence for a minute, then Davey said, “I don’t want to get up.”

“Then don’t.”

“I have class.”

Jack grumbled, wrapping both his arms securely around Davey’s waist.

Davey sighed. “Five more minutes?”

Jack didn’t answer and didn’t move his arms.

“Five minutes, then,” Davey concluded.

Five minutes turned into ten, and ten turned in to an hour. An hour turned into Davey missing his eight-thirty class. If he gave a shit, he sure didn’t act like it.

“Wow, I must be pretty special, if you’re missing class on my account,” Jack teased.

“Shut up,” Davey whined, burying his face in Jack’s shoulder. “You’re my boyfriend.”

Jack laughed. “Good to see you’re still just as smart as before. I was worried my ‘dumbass’ was contagious.”

“You’re smarter than you think you are.”

“Mmm, I dunno ‘bout that.”

“Well, I’m the smart one, so I’m right.” Davey pressed a kiss on Jack’s cheek and finally, at eight-forty-two, sat up.

Jack sat up as well and stretched, popping his back and shoulders as he did so. “If you’s so smart, why’d we sleep on the couch?”

Davey squinted at him. “What does my intelligence have to do with where we fell asleep?”

“Well, ‘cause sleeping on the couch when there’s a bed available is dumb.”

Davey laughed brightly, and he looked like he was about to retort, when the lock on the front door clicked and the door slammed open.

“Jack!” Crutchie exclaimed. “Did you know—oh hi, Dave—that Race is sleeping with Spot Conlon?”

Jack startled at the loud noise before focusing on Crutchie. “I— Race is— yeah. Well, I mean, no, but I suspected.”

“Wait, Spot Conlon?” Davey glanced between Crutchie and Jack. “You mean my RA Spot Conlon?”

Jack choked and burst into laughter. “Spot’s an  _ RA? _ “

“Is his real name Sean?” Davey asked. “Because, if his real name is Sean, yes, he’s an RA.”

“Beautiful.”

“Can we focus on the important things, here?” Crutchie huffed, limping into the living room as fast as he could. “Like, I don’t know, the fact that our  _ best friend _ is  _ fucking Spot Conlon? _ “

Jack nodded seriously. “Oh yeah, no, that just ain’t right, considering now we know he’s a dad. Race ain’t ready to have kids!”

“I’m confused,” Davey said.

Crutchie sat down on the coffee table and barreled on. “Like, look, I know Race has been drowning his love for Al in men since forever. It’s just never been someone we actually  _ know _ before.”

Jack was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, and fingers steepled in front of his mouth. “I wonder if Spot knows that Race is gonna tell— actually he’s probably  _ already _ told everyone.”

Crutchie nodded solemnly. “Poor guy.”

He proceeded to give Davey a look, as if just processing his presence. Then he looked at Jack, then back at Davey. He started to grin, then bit his lip hard. There was a flash of movement as Jack grabbed a pillow and began repeatedly smacking Crutchie with it.

Crutchie burst out laughing. “Okay, okay! I’m leaving. I’m going to shower. Goodbye.” Crutchie disappeared into the bathroom, no longer bothering to hide his shit-eating grin.

“You’re a bastard!” Jack shouted after him, throwing the pillow at the already closing bathroom door.

He turned back to Davey, who sat with his back perfectly straight and his hands folded in his lap, cheeks as red as a fire truck.

Jack smiled sheepishly. “Sorry...”

To his vast surprise, Davey responded by leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

Jack blinked, smiling with slight confusion. “You’re not upset?”

Davey shrugged. “Should I be?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, I’d hope not, but you didn’t look too happy about Crutchie being all...well you know.”

Davey averted his eyes, but smiled as he did. “I don’t think I really care what anyone else thinks.”

_ Anyone besides you, _ that was. It was unspoken, but it was there.

Jack smiled properly. “Well for the record, I think Crutchie approves, so you don’t have to worry about him anyway.”

Davey hummed. He cast another look at Jack before standing up. “I should go. I’ve already missed one class.”

Jack stood as well, reaching out to grip Davey’s shirt and pull him briefly off balance towards him, planting a kiss on the side of his head before pushing him back to where he was and letting go. “Okay, smart man, go be smart.”

“Text me, okay?”

“‘Course. See ya Davey.”

Davey smiled. “See you, Jacky.”

Jack watched him leave, and as soon as the front door closed behind Davey, the bathroom door opened, revealing a fully-clothed and not even remotely damp Crutchie.

“ _ So!? _ ”

Jack burst into laughter. “You creep! Hidin’ in the bathroom listening to people’s conversations.”

“Listening to  _ your _ conversation with the boy you’re totally stupid over, who just  _ spent the night _ with you.” Crutchie moved faster than Jack had seen him move in a long time. He threw his cane at the counter and sat down at the card table as his cane, as expected, clattered to the floor. “Tell me everything. I need deets.”

“Jesus, I think you’re more invested in this than I am!” Jack was still laughing but paused, holding his hand open, palm forward, in a ‘stop’ motion. “And don’t get me wrong, I am damn invested.”

Crutchie kicked the chair across from him out from the table. “ _ Talk _ .”

He rolled his eyes and sat down. “Keep your shirt on, nothin’ happened.”

Crutchie scoffed. “Nothing? You expect me to believe I left you home alone all night with David Jacobs and  _ nothing _ happened?”

“Yeah, okay okay okay.” Jack held up his hands in surrender. “We watched some movies, we got pizza, we played Candyland—” He shrugged, trying to dampen the grin that was breaking across his face. “—kissed a bit, and decided we’re dating now.”

“Oh my  _ god! _ ” Crutchie slammed his hands on the table.

Jack jumped a little, laughing again. “What, what?”

“How did it happen? Who asked who?”

“Uhh, it wasn’t really asking? We just sorta talked about it...” Jack offered lamely.

Crutchie giggled. “About damn time, too.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’ve only known each other a few weeks.”

“Yeah, you’ve barely gone an hour without talking about him for a few weeks.”

“Ahh shut up.” Jack laughed.

“ _ Jacky’s got a boyfriend! _ ” Crutchie sang loud enough to alert the neighbors.

Jack rolled his eyes good naturedly. “You’re a dork.”

“And you’re in love.” Crutchie used his good leg to pull his cane close enough to grab. “Again.”

Jack blushed. “Come on, we’ve barely started dating.”

“Okay, Megara.” Crutchie stood up. “I actually am going to shower now.”

“You sure there isn’t some other couple’s bathroom you wanna go lurk in first?” Jack teased, pretend that Crutchie’s words weren’t ringing through his head.

In love. Again.

* * *

In the middle of his last class of the day, David’s cell phone rang. He lunged for his bag, fumbling wildly and nearly throwing his phone across the room as he tried to turn the volume off. Cringing, he looked at the screen, and saw his sister’s contact ID displayed under ‘Incoming Call’.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath and shot her a text saying he would call her back right after class.

A text immediately buzzed back. “ _ You better!!! _ ”

Oh God, what had he done? David struggled to focus on the rest of the lecture, wondering what on earth he had done to warrant the wrath of Sarah Jacobs. The moment he stepped outside the classroom, he speed-dialed her back.

The phone only got half a ring in before Sarah picked up. “David Jacobs!” she practically shouted. “ _ Who _ is Kelly and  _ why _ didn’t you tell  _ me!? _ ”

Oh. Oh God. Oh  _ shit _ . David  _ knew _ this would happen if he lied to Les. Why did he have to be such an  _ idiot? _

“Kelly is...a...person,” he responded dumbly.

“And you didn’t  _ tell _ me!?”

“It’s not a big deal,” David assured her as he stepped out of the building into the warm evening. Spring was definitely on its way.

“Mmmmm, that’s not what Les said,” she scolded.

David sighed. Of course, Les would say something very dramatic. “I promise, it’s no big deal. Kelly is just the person...that I’m...” He blushed. “...dating.”

She let out a little gasp of a laugh. “Oh my god, wait, really? I thought Les was just being, well, you know.”

“Well, we  _ weren’t _ a thing, when I talked to Les. It was just a crush. But now, yeah, we’re dating.” David tried not to smile, but damn it, thinking about Jack made him feel all silly.

He could practically hear her grinning. “Sooo? Tell me everything!”

David cringed himself halfway to a headache. “We, uh, met a couple weeks ago. Kelly’s roommate dared, um...”  _ Shit, pronouns... _ “Okay, so Charlie dared Kelly to ask for my number, and we’ve been hanging out ever since.”

“That is adorable. So what’s she like? Is she pretty? What’s her major?” Sarah was moving into rapid fire question mode.

Every  _ she _ made David’s heart skip a beat. He was going to drop dead on the pavement if Sarah didn’t stop, so he cut her off. “Kind, talented,  _ beautiful _ , majoring in Studio Art.”

“Oh wow, an artist? That’s so cool! What’s she look like?”

“Come on, that’s such a basic question!” David complained.

“Aaand? I wanna know what hottie finally made my brother notice something other than a book!” she teased.

David rolled his eyes. “Dark hair, kind of curly. Brown eyes.” He chuckled, “A smile that could kill you.”

She laughed. “Man you’ve got it pretty bad, huh?”

“I do not!” David paused. “Maybe, I do. I don’t— I’ve never—” He groaned. Why was he like this?

Sarah giggled. “Oh my god, you’re all fuzzy and dumb, this is great!”

“Oh, shut up! Not like you’re any better when  _ you _ have a new boyfriend.” David froze in the middle of the sidewalk. Why in the name of God and all that is precious and holy did he word it like  _ that? _ “I mean—... You know what I mean.”

There was a half a beat before she spoke again. “Yeah, okay, I guess that’s fair.” He could hear hesitance in her voice, almost suspicion.

He reminded himself to tread carefully. “Anyway, yes—there is a person named Kelly that I am dating. Any more questions?”

“Yeah, can I meet her? It’s almost spring break and I could come up to New York to visit!” Sarah sounded so enthusiastic, completely unaware of what an enormous, terrifying, impossible thing she just asked.

“Holy shit, um—” The street was suddenly too crowded, and the warm air sweltering. David looked around for an escape. “Give me a second.” He ducked into a nearby alley and took a moment to catch his breath. “Look, Sarah, it’s not that I don’t want you to meet... _ Kelly _ . I think you would love Kelly, and Kelly would love you. It’s just that, um...” David wished he was a better liar. “I think Kelly has spring break plans, already.”

“Okay what is going on?” She sounded concerned, but also slightly exasperated. “You’re not talking the way you usually talk, you’re all clunky. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” David insisted far too vehemently. “Maybe I’m just not ready!”

“I mean it’s fine to wanna get a bit more settled into the relationship before you let me try to scare her off, but you don’t need to be so weird about— oh my god she’s a guy isn’t she?” Her voice flatlined mid sentence as realization struck.

David’s blood ran cold. “I didn’t say that. What makes you say that? Why would you say that?” His voice rose in pitch with every sentence.

“Well, the way you were talking, avoiding pronouns and all, and now you freaking out about me asking to visit? I mean Dave, come on.”

Was this what drowning felt like? No matter how much air David forced into his lungs, it didn’t seem like enough. He ended up sitting on the ground, not sure how he got there, hyperventilating into the phone. He hadn’t had a panic attack since high school, and he had conveniently forgotten everything he was supposed to do in this scenario.

“Hey, hey hey hey.” In an instant Sarah’s voice had dropped into that soft, quiet, gentle but firm tone that she saved just for her brothers, in times like these. “Dave, it’s alright. Listen to me, okay? Just focus on my voice. Everything is okay, you haven’t done anything wrong, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m  _ sorry _ ,” David sobbed. “I’m sorry for lying. Please don’t tell Mom and Dad or Les. Please.”

“Dave, David, hey, everything is okay. I’m not gonna tell anyone. It’s alright. I’m not upset. It’s okay.”

Not upset. David repeated those words in his head until he could breathe again. Not upset. Not upset. Not upset.

“Nothing is wrong, Dave. You haven’t done anything wrong,” she assured him gently. “Do you remember that breathing thing? In four, hold seven, out eight. Want me to count?”

“No,” David said, his voice weak and raw. “I’m okay.”

“Alright, just as long as you’re breathing.”

David took another couple deep breaths. “So...”

“I’m not mad at you, Dave. It’s all fine, really. I wish you hadn’t been scared of me finding out. You can tell me anything, you know that, right? You’ll always be my favorite brother.” She continued in a mock whisper, “But don’t tell Les that, he thinks he’s the favorite.”

David normally would have laughed at that, but his heart wasn’t in it. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, which must have come untucked when he sat down. “You don’t...I don’t know...want to talk about it?”

“We can, if you want to.”

David considered that for a minute. Did he want to? No, of course not. Would it make him feel better? Probably.

“I think I need to do this,” he said.

“Okay, let’s do it.” Her voice was solid, supportive, accepting.

“Okay,” David echoed. He knew he would chicken out again if he didn’t say it fast, despite the fact that Sarah had just fucking called it. “I like boys.”

“Hey, me too! Twinsies!” she joked.

David laughed. “Can you try to be serious? I’ve been sitting on this since freshman year of high school.”

She laughed as well. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Go on.”

“Well, clearly, I’m gay.” Holy shit, it actually felt good to say that out loud. “I have a boyfriend. His name is Jack Kelly.”

“Ooooh, ‘Kelly’, got it. That’s clever.” She snickered. “Okay so what’s  _ he _ like?”

David groaned. “He’s amazing, Sarah. I’m so screwed. I saw him this morning, and I miss him like crazy.”

She outright giggled. “And what, you’ve only known him a few weeks?”

“Two weeks. Not a word.”

He could hear that she was biting back more giggles.

He huffed. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell me more!”

David picked himself up off the ground and dusted himself off. “What else do you want to know?” He stepped back out onto the sidewalk, hoping he didn’t look too ruffled.

“I dunno, everything! Your first boyfriend—this is huge! Ugh, I’m so mad I’m not there.”

David shook his head. How could he possible sum Jack Kelly up in just a few words over the phone? “I think you’re going to have to meet him.”

He could hear the shit eating grin through her voice. “That sounds good to me.”


	13. Losers on a Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The freshmen have questions, and so do Jack's friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to catch up, so expect a few rapid-fire updates.

It was Thursday afternoon, and David hadn’t seen Jack since the previous morning. What with his different jobs and his classes, the guy was basically always moving. They had been texting pretty much constantly, of course, but it wasn’t the same. David was in the basement of the student center, sitting in the surprisingly comfortable communal study room with his little band of freshmen who had clearly gotten very attached to him at this point. Elmer was reading flash cards aloud, quizzing Romeo, and Tommy Boy was struggling with an English paper.

“Dave,” Tommy piped up, “is this the right version of ‘principle’?”

David leaned over Tommy’s shoulder and scanned the sentence. “No, that needs to be ‘principal’ with an ‘al.”

“Damn it!” Tommy tossed his hands up in frustration.

Romeo was also getting frustrated. He had a biology exam in two days, and he wasn’t at all prepared. Elmer was, well, Elmer—all smiles and dumb optimism. He was trying his best to encourage Romeo, but he wasn’t making much progress. David wondered if he should text Jack to see what Charlie was up to. He knew biology, right? Maybe he could help Romeo. He glanced back at Tommy’s laptop. “That should be a comma, not a semicolon. Those are clauses, not complete sentences.”

Tommy Boy grumbled to himself as he replaced his punctuation the way David recommended. Suddenly there was a flurry of flash cards as Romeo upended the pile on the table between himself and Elmer. “This sucks, I suck, I’m done.”

Elmer protested, but Romeo would hear none of it. “My brain is scrambled eggs, even if I  _ wanted _ to keep trying I’d just be useless. This brain train is parked for the night.”

Elmer just blinked in confusion. “Trains  _ park?” _

Romeo flailed a bit. “I don’t know shut up I’m tired.” He turned to Davey. “Come on, man, help me. I need to see meaning in life again, now that biology has begun to kill me.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to help you with that?” David asked, cruelly amused.

The younger boy flopped, dramatically slumping over the table. “I don’t know, distract me, tell me some shit you’ve been up to that isn’t school.”

David sat down in the chair across from Romeo. “Well, I came out to my sister yesterday, so that’s something.”

Homework instantly forgotten, all three boys whirled to face Davey, raptly at attention.

“What?” David slid down in his chair.

“Whaddaya mean ’what’?” Elmer huffed. “We wanna hear the story!”

“There’s no story!” David insisted. “We were talking, and...” He knew this was going to get him so much shit from the freshmen. “...I was talking about Jack, and she guessed.”

“How are things going with dining hall boy, anyway?” Tommy Boy asked.

Right. David hadn’t told them he and Jack were official. “Things are going well,” he said. He hoped he wasn’t blushing too hard. He took a long drink from his water bottle to disguise it, if he was.

Tommy Boy nodded. “So have you banged him yet?”

David choked on his water and coughed it up all over the table.

Romeo gasped. “Holy shit you  _ have! _ ”

David shook his head frantically as he tried to catch his breath. “I have  _ not!” _

“You totally have!” he crowed, clearly delighted.

David repeated, “I have not.” He pulled a small package of tissues out of his backpack and set about soaking up as much water as he could from the table.

“Well, why not?” Tommy Boy asked, grabbing some napkins to help clean up.

“Because I’m not a slut,” David snapped before he could quell the fiery pang of annoyance—and, if he was being honest with himself, fear and hurt—that incited it.

Romeo chuckled, “Methinks thou doth protest too much, my friend.”

“Okay, stop,” David begged. “Just stop. I haven’t...done anything like that. With Jack.”

Tommy Boy was snickering. “Are you sure? Cause you certainly dress like a slut.” He looked pointedly at Dave’s khakis and light blue button up that was properly tucked in, with the sleeves half rolled up.

Elmer was the only one who wasn’t teasing. “Guys, c’mon. Shut up.” He kicked at Tommy’s ankle under the table before fastening his gaze back on David. “You said stuffs going well. Go on?”

David wanted to hug that kid. “Yeah, well, we’ve been hanging out a lot. He’s really cool and nice and, well, I don’t know if any of you are into guys, but if you are, you know he’s stupidly handsome.”

He had tried not to let Tommy’s comment get to him, but at some point while he was talking, he had rolled his sleeves down.

“Oh, well, Romeo’s into everyone.” Tommy waved a hand at Romeo, who nodded sagely.

“He  _ is  _ stupid handsome.”

David gratefully let the mood lighten. “Right. So it’s going well. We’re...yeah.”

“You’re yeah?” Elmer prompted.

David shrugged. “Y-yeah?”

“Oh my god,” Romeo burst into laughter. “Dining hall boy has rendered the walking mouth speechless. Jesus is coming back.”

Now Romeo got a kick from Elmer. “Shut up, it’s sweet!”

David was definitely blushing now. “I mean, I really like him, guys,” he said timidly. “He’s special.”

The three freshmen erupted in a chorus of ‘aww’ and ‘what a dork’ and ‘how cute’ and so on and so forth.

David rolled his eyes and finished cleaning up the water on the table. “You three are incorrigible.”

Tommy Boy began to say something about big stupid words, earning more scolding from Elmer, and David tried to turn his attention back to the book he was reading for class, but Romeo peered over the top like a proper creeper.

“Are you  _ going to _ bang him?”

David set the book down on the table, slammed his face into it, and groaned.

Suddenly David felt a weight press against the side of his chair, and heard a painfully familiar voice ask, “Gonna bang who?”

David groaned louder—more like screamed into his book. “Jack,” he grumbled, “you’ve met my friends, Romeo, Elmer, and Tommy.”

Jack was leaning against David’s chair, and dropped an arm easily down across his shoulders. “Yeah,” he grinned. “Hey kids, how’s it goin?”

Elmer was clearly struggling to hold back giggles. Tommy Boy matched Jack’s grin and nodded in greeting.

David looked up. Just having some physical contact with Jack made him feel ten times better. “What are you doing here?” he asked softly. “I thought you had class.”

Jack moved his other hand, brushing Dave’s chin upwards with his curled fingers as he leaned down to plant a gentle but firm kiss on his lips. The three freshmen began to whoop and hoot, Romeo was applauding.

David smiled and, if it was possible, blushed harder. “That’s great, but didn’t answer my question.”

Jack leaned back to look at him, smiling that lazy, easy, gorgeous smile of his. “What? I missed ya.”

He moved his arm from Davey’s shoulders to brush his fingers through his hair, briefly cupping his cheek before bracing his arm on the back of the chair. David was kissing him again before he could think about why that might be a bad idea. It took a second for him to register the commotion in his periphery. Romeo was trying to take a picture of them, while Elmer was doing his damndest to stop him, and Tommy Boy was just whooping and shouting things like “Get some, Dave!” or “That’s my friend! Look at my friend!”

David jerked back. “Sorry, sorry.”

Jack laughed. “Seems like you got a fan club, Davey boy.”

Tommy Boy sputtered. “‘Davey boy’?”

Romeo was beyond delighted, and burst into laughter. David glared at them. Elmer was doing his best to stifle his giggles, but even he couldn’t properly hold it together. Jack seemed entirely amused.

“You two are very cute together,” Elmer said with a ridiculously wide smile.

Jack grinned. “Nah, that’s all Dave.”

Romeo snorted, earning him another kick under the table from Elmer and a bonus kick from Tommy.

“So,” Jack put his arm around David again, rubbing his shoulder with one hand. “What are you kids up to?”

All three freshmen spoke at once. Elmer said, “Studying.” Tommy Boy said, “Dave was telling us how wonderful you are.” Romeo, ever delicate, said, “We were just asking Davey boy why you haven’t fucked, yet.”

Jack choked and burst into laughter. “Oh, is that so?”

David slammed his head on the table.

“What’d’ya tell ‘em, Dave?” Jack asked, still laughing.

David whined, “ _ Nothing _ .”

Elmer was scolding Romeo for his bluntness, talking about people’s privacy and social awareness. Jack and Tommy Boy were both snickering.

David reluctantly sat back up, rubbing his forehead where it had hit the table rather hard. “How are you today, Jack?” he deadpanned.

“I’m doin’ alright, babe. Work was uneventful, and my last two classes got canceled. What about you?”

“Good, except for two little gremlins and their handler who won’t leave me alone.”

The aforementioned gremlins giggled, and Elmer pouted.

“Oh, I dunno, Davey—I think they’re pretty cute,” Jack teased.

David relented, simply glad that they hadn’t scared Jack off. “They’re not bad.”

“Honestly, pretty quiet, considering my usual crowd,” Jack mused, chuckling a bit.

Romeo scoffed. “What’s your usual crowd?”

“A hot mess,” Jack laughed.

David frowned. Other than Charlie, and he supposed Chelsea, and whoever Race was, he didn’t know anything about Jack’s social life.

“When can I meet your friends?” he asked suddenly.

“Uhh, when do you wanna?” Jack asked, a little surprised.

“I don’t know. When’s convenient?”

“Um...” Jack glanced at his phone. “I dunno, I can ask the fellas, if you want.”

David hesitated. “Only if  _ you _ want to.”

Jack nodded. “No, I do, for sure I want you to meet them. It’s just hard to get us all in the same place at once.”

Romeo began, “You know what else is—” but Elmer smacked him before he could continue.

Jack laughed. “Hang on, I’ll shoot a message to the group.”

* * *

Losers On A Mission

Jack, 5:32pm: Hey fellas, big news. I got a boyfriend.

Specs, 5:32pm: Whoa!

Albert, 5:32pm: Oh shiiiiit!

Race, 5:32pm: wtf man I’ve been trying to   
get a boyfriend for ages and you just get   
one outta nowhere??

Mush, 5:33pm: When did this happen?

Finch, 5:33pm: Shut up Race you haven’t   
been trying anything

Race, 5:33pm: I have so!

Ike, 5:33pm: Spending almost every other   
night at a bar hooking up with random guys isn’t trying.

Jack, 5:34pm: Can it, jeez, you’re worse than the fan club.

Buttons, 5:34pm: Fan club?

Jack, 5:35pm: Buncha freshman glommed onto Davey.

Albert, 5:35pm: Davey?

Crutchie, 5:36pm: The boyfriend, try to keep up, Al.

Albert, 5:36pm: Well excuse the hell outta me!   
Not all of us are so privileged as to share a   
bedroom with the great Jack Kelly.

Jack, 5:37pm: Wow Al, I didn’t know you felt that way

Albert, 5:37pm: Oh shut up you know what I mean

Henry, 5:37pm: So this boyfriend??

Jack, 5:38pm: Yeah, he wants to meet you shitheads.

Race, 5:38pm: Is he hot???

Jack, 5:39pm: No Race, he looks like a bullfrog. Of course he’s hot!

Finch, 5:39pm: Oh shit Jack’s into bullfrogs!

Mush, 5:39pm: I didn’t know you were a furry!

Jojo, 5:39pm: That would be a scaly, actually, if the focus is reptiles/amphibians

Mush, 5:40pm: Why the hell do you know that??

Race, 5:40pm: @Jack pics or it didn’t happen

Jack, 5:41pm: What, and ruin the surprise? Hell no. When are you losers free to hang?

Race, 5:42pm: Idk Im pretty busy

Race: 5:42pm: Idk if you heard Im fucking Spot Conlon

Jojo, 5:42pm: Haven’t any of you ever been to Comic Con?

Albert, 5:42pm: Wait you’re WHAT?

Henry, 5:43pm: It’s okay Jojo no one’s gonna judge you   
for liking lizards. If Spot likes Race, then clearly his   
taste is worse than yours.

Race, 5:43pm: @Albert oh Im sorry you didn’t know that?

Buttons, 5:44pm: I want to hear more about the bf!!!

Albert, 5:44pm: Since when was this a thing?

Henry, 5:44pm: Yeah tell us about the boyfriend!

Finch, 5:44pm: Boyfriend!

Mush, 5:44pm: Boyfriend!

Buttons, 5:45pm: Boyfriend!

Specs, 5:45pm: Boyfriend!

Race, 5:45pm: Wouldnt u like to know

Smalls, 5:45pm: JACK HAS A BF???

Ike, 5:46pm: Boyfriend!

Crutchie, 5:46pm: Get with the times, Smalls!

Jack, 5:47pm: Guys, Jesus Christ. Are we gonna hang out or what?

Ike, 5:47pm: Mike’s phone is dead but he says boyfriend

Buttons, 5:48pm: Who’s free this weekend?

Mush, 5:48pm: I could do Saturday.

Finch, 5:49pm: Saturday works

Specs, 5:49pm: As long as it’s after 1:00 I’m good.

Albert, 5:50pm: Yeah sure

Jack, 5:50pm: Okay so Saturday at like 2:00?

Race 5:51pm: ill have to ask Spot Conlon


	14. The Guys Are a Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack introduces Davey to his ragtag bag of asshats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Including some dialogue we stole from a text post. If anyone knows the OP, please let us know so we can credit them properly.

“He doesn’t like sweater vests!” David lamented, chucking three of various hues out of the closet. “What am I supposed to put over my shirt?”

His laptop was sitting open on his bed, aimed at his closet, and Sarah was laughing at him. “You don’t have to put anything over your shirt dummy!”

David turned to her in horror. “What if I  _ sweat _ , Sarah!? Or what if it’s cold!?”

She cackled. “How is a sweater vest gonna help you if you’re sweating? And if it’s cold, it won’t help that much either. No sleeves!”

“It’s to hide the sweat, Sarah.” David huffed. “My regular vest is at the dry-cleaners.”

* * *

“—and out of nowhere he says he wants to meet my friends. It makes sense, but why would anyone want to meet our ragtag bag of asshats?” Jack plopped down in the armchair and put his face in his hands. “Crutchie this is gonna be a nightmare.”

“Well, you couldn’t hide him from the bag of asshats forever.” Crutchie threw a pair of jeans at Jack. “Now, put some pants on.”

Jack whined, wriggling around in the chair. “He’s gonna hate me cause my friends are stupid.”

Crutchie sighed and sat down on the couch. “Jack, seriously. He’s not going to hate you because your friends are stupid. He’s going to hate you because  _ you’re _ stupid. Put some pants on.”

* * *

“Dave, he isn’t gonna give a shit what color your socks are. No one is even going to look at your socks!”

“If they match, are they going to think I’m stuffy, or if they don’t, are they going to think I don’t know how to dress myself?”

“What if you bring two pairs, and switch back and forth throughout the night?” The mockery in Sarah’s voice was palpable.

David shook his head. “No, then the sock smell gets in the air.”

She burst into laughter. “What about no socks at all?”

“Blisters.”

“Dave, oh my goddddd.”

* * *

Crutchie emerged from the bedroom with a pair of khakis. “How about these?”

“What?” Jack stood up and started to move towards the bedroom. “No, I’m just gonna wear jeans. This isn’t any sorta thing.” He froze, and a tinge of worry filtered into his voice. “Oh god,  _ is _ it some sorta thing?”

Crutchie collapsed straight to the floor. “I don’t care. I can see the outline of your dick through your underwear. Just put on some pants. Any pants. I’m literally begging you.”

Jack stuck his tongue out as he walked into the bedroom. “You should count yourself lucky.”

* * *

“Is olive drab a neutral!?”

“Anything with the word ‘drab’ in it is a neutral. Why would you want to wear something drab?”

“Are you even listening!?” Davey shouted in frustration. “I need to know if I can wear it with my orange socks!”

“Yeah, if you want to look like a pumpkin! Orange and green? Don’t be ridiculous,” Sarah tutted.

“It isn’t ‘green’ if it’s a  _ neutral! _ “

“Olive is, by definition, green!”

“Okay, okay.” David massaged his temples. “How do we feel about blue?”

“Blue is nice. Blue looks really good with your skin tone,” Sarah confirmed, nodding.

“But it’s his favorite color. Is that going to make me look like I’m trying too hard?”

* * *

“D’you think it’s too late to cancel? What if I say I’m sick?” Jack had pants on, but his T-shirt had only made it around his neck before he got distracted again.

“Remember what I said about me being the guardian?” Crutchie huffed as he helped Jack into his t-shirt, much the way one might do for a young toddler.

Jack was babbling the whole time, barely even registering Crutchie’s presence. “I could tell the fellas we broke up. I could tell Dave we aren’t friends anymore. What if I pay them off to pretend to be deaf? Or mute? Or both?”

Crutchie rolled his eyes. “You don’t have the money to pay anyone off.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

* * *

“Okay, how do I look?” David stood in front of his computer in a blue button-down and jeans.

Sarah regarded him thoughtfully. “What if you try leaving the top one or two buttons open, instead of having it buttoned all the way up to your ears?”

“Seriously? I don’t want his friends to think I’m a  _ whore _ , Sarah.”

She burst into laughter. “Jesus, Dave. It’s two buttons! You aren’t a fair lady of the thirteenth century. No one’s gonna swoon at the sight of your neck.”

David reluctantly unbuttoned the very top button.

* * *

“Jaaack,” Crutchie groaned, pulling Jack’s arms into a light jacket, ”that isn’t even your shoe. The left one is yours, the right one is mine.” He frowned. “Or, rather, the other way around, they’re on the wrong feet.”

Crutchie scrabbled to catch ahold of Jack’s left hand as he gesticulated wildly while he spoke.

“I’ve got the wrong shoes, I’ve got the wrong feet, I’ve got the wrong friends! Crutchie they’re madmen, every single one of ‘em! Why do I associate with such people?” he moaned.

Crutchie was the only person in the world Jack was willing to act such a fool in front of. His whole life had been fighting to survive, always on the lookout, keeping him and his safe. As the years went on, he began to let his guard down around Crutchie, and this had devolved into such a level of comfort and familiarity between the two that neither could imagine a day let alone a life without the other.

Jack flopped pathetically forward, ragdolling so that Crutchie was holding up all his weight against his shoulder. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” Jack mumbled.

Crutchie patted his back. “Of course I do, Jacky, but this cane’s only made to hold one person’s weight, so...”

* * *

“Wait, didn’t you say this whole shindig kicks off at, like, 2:30?” Sarah asked, glancing at her phone with a frown.

“Yes, why?” David mumbled as he tied his shoes.

“You’re running late, babe.” Sarah cringed, anticipating the impending freak-out explosion.

David glanced at the time on the microwave. His eyes grew wide, and he let out a string of expletives that would have made a hardened sailor blush. He grabbed his wallet and ran out the door, abandoning his laptop, and therefore Sarah, on his bed.

* * *

Jack was standing outside Greenwich Hall, looking anxiously at his watch every few seconds. They were all going to meet in the third floor lounge, cause a good chunk of they guys lived in Greenwich, so it made the most sense to meet there.

Jack was getting nervous. The plan was 2:30, and the normally cripplingly punctual Davey Jacobs was eight minutes late. What if he was bailing? What if he decided he didn’t want to meet his friends, cause that would mean this was something real? What if Davey didn’t want this to be something real?

Jack’s gaze jerked up at the pounding sound of quickly approaching footsteps, and he practically melted with relief when a surprisingly rumpled looking Davey came crashing around the corner of the building.

Davey spotted Jack and ran to him. “HolyshitJackI’msosorry, I just—” he panted. “I just lost track of time, and then it was two-twenty, and I—”

Jack caught one of Dave’s hands in both of his, bringing it up to press a quick kiss on his knuckles.

“It’s all good, all good.” He bit his lip, smiling sheepishly. “I’m just glad you didn’t bail.”

Davey’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why would I bail?”

Jack shrugged, dropping Davey’s hand to shove his own in his pockets. “I dunno. This is, like, a thing, I guess, y’know? Meeting each other’s circles? I dunno, I just got worried that you, y’know...” He trailed off, entirely unsure as to what he was trying to say.

Davey seemed equally baffled as to how that sentence was supposed to end. “Well,” he blinked, “I didn’t.”

Jack laughed, caught halfway between relief and anxiety. “I’m glad.”

Davey’s voice got quiet and soft. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem kinda...?” He wiggled his hand to indicate something like ‘jittery.’

“I guess I’m kinda nervous?” Jack cringed. “The guys are...a lot.”

Davey poked his shoulder and smiled playfully. “So are you, but I still like you.”

Jack let out a small laugh at that. “Yeah, alright.” He shifted sideways, bumping his hip against Davey. “Let’s go, then.”

* * *

Jack had warned him that ‘the guys’ were a lot. David expected ‘the guys’ to be a lot. It became clear the moment they walked into the lounge, however, that Jack had a much higher threshold for ‘ a lot’ than David.

Over a dozen guys, all around their age, were strewn about the lounge, sitting in chairs, sitting on tables, sitting on each other, standing on chairs. Four were crammed on a couch, engaged in an intense game of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, which David only recognized because Les played it. He saw Charlie off to the side talking with another, and he recognized his RA, Spot Conlon, looking more than a little annoyed with the blond boy sitting in his lap, who seemed to be engaged in an intense argument with the red-haired guy across the table.

Jack stepped further into the room, towards the couch in the middle, which was aimed towards the far wall where the TV was mounted. He crossed his arms, leaning on the back of the couch, scrutinizing the TV. The four boys on the couch were entirely engrossed in their game and didn’t notice Jack, even after he started to join their debate on which character was the worst to play and why.

David watched in a sort of baffled awe as the large group interacted, a clusterfuck of personalities that shouldn’t have worked but clearly did.

After a minute, Charlie’s voice cut above the dull roar of voices. “Jack!” All eyes turned to him, and he nodded in David’s direction. “I think you dropped something.”

Jack smirked, wrinkling his nose at Crutchie, but the smile was quickly wiped off his face by sheepish concern as all sixteen sets of eyes swept over to David.

The red-haired guy sitting across from Spot Conlon and the blond flashed David a wicked grin. “So, you’re Cowboy’s new plaything, huh?”

Jack turned bright red, yanking a baseball cap off the head of one of the four on the couch and chucking it at the redhead, who ducked, laughing.

“Touchy, jeez!”

Jack growled at him before straightening up to address the room at large. “Fellas, this is David.”

They chorused, “Hi, David.”

David felt as though he were in a support group meeting. “Hi,” he responded meekly.

Jack cringed. “You guys better play nice, or you’ll get worse than a hat thrown at’cha.”

The kid whose hat had been stolen looked up at Jack with a little frown. “Whatcha gonna throw?”

Jack ruffled his hair, pushing his head a bit. “I dunno, Blink, maybe I’ll throw you.”

There were a few chuckles, and the room more or less devolved back into unfocused chaos. Jack pushed off the couch to go to David, but was beat to his destination by a tall, dark-skinned boy with coke bottle glasses and a friendly smile.

“Hi, I’m Specs.” He extended a hand towards Dave.

David shook his hand, more than a little thankful for a greeting he knew how to handle. “David.” He cringed. “...obviously. Jack just said that.”

Specs waved a little, dismissive wave, still smiling. “Nice to meet you, David. So, what are you majoring in?”

Specs stayed and talked with David for awhile, just exchanging casual pleasantries, but before long, he was called over to a table with a few guys sitting at it, and off he went. A couple others came up and introduced themselves in a reasonable manner—Henry, Mike, ‘Buttons’, and ‘Sniper’. David quickly learned that most of these boys almost exclusively answered to pretty weird nicknames. A few tried to explain their origins, but the stories quickly became so convoluted that the attempts were abandoned.

Jack kept trying to get back to David’s side, and each time without fail was snagged by a different subgroup. At this point he had been pulled all the way to the other side of the room, perched on the arm of the chair that the redhead was in. He was mediating an argument between him and the blond, who Dave had heard referred to as ‘Race’ a few times.

Right, that made sense, because, as David remembered, Race was fucking Spot Conlon.

Finally, after probably half an hour of being there, David caught a break in the onslaught of people wanting to meet him and managed to scurry back to Jack.

As soon as Jack saw David coming over, he reached both arms out towards him, opening and closing his hands to indicate he wanted a hug, or to hold hands, or something of that nature. Jack kept his attention raptly on Race’s shouting about how Albert’s barely been home, but once David was within arm’s reach, he grabbed ahold of both of his wrists, maneuvering him around so that he was standing behind him, with his arms draped over Jack’s shoulders, and Jack hugging both of his forearms against his chest. Jack nodded, and Race kept babbling about their ‘domestic schedule’ and how it was being disrupted. David properly relaxed for the first time since entering the lounge. He hadn’t realized he was so tense. He ended up resting his chin on the top of Jack’s head and zoning out to the melodic sound of Race’s increasingly high-pitched monologue about the importance of friendship.

“Friends gotta spend time together!” Race was wailing. “And when he’s out at all hours goin’ on a string of girl after girl, I get worried!”

Albert groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Race, it ain’t your job to babysit me!”

“I ain’t babysittin’, I’s bein’ a good friend!”

“And I love you man, I do, but we don’t gotta spend every second together!”

“Yeah but we been spendin’  _ no _ seconds together!” Race was clearly very upset, but David couldn’t tell if he was angry, or sad.

Jack tilted his head up and back to look towards David, pursing his lips, requesting a kiss. With a little blush and a smile, he obliged, placing a short kiss on Jack’s lips. Straightening up again, David noticed that Spot was looking at him rather intently. He blushed again at this scrutiny, and turned his attention back to Jack, who was still leaned towards him, murmuring, “You doin’ alright babe?”

David had to remind himself that there was no way Spot was judging him for being gay. Not as long as he had Race in his lap.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” David said, but he still held onto Jack a little tighter. That may also have had something to do with Jack calling him ‘babe.’

Jack turned his head a little sideways so he could look up at David better, leaning his head against his chest.

“Any of the fellas give you any trouble yet?” His voice stayed low and quiet as he rubbed circles in David’s palm with his thumb.

Meanwhile, Race was still yelling. “Friendship ain’t a one way street, Al!”

“Race, Jesus, I been busy!” Albert’s volume was rising to match Race.

“I’s barely seen ya for two weeks now! We  _ live _ together, Al; I shouldn’t be seein’ ya only every two weeks if we’s roommates!”

Jack continued murmuring to David, pressing a kiss against his knuckles as he did so. “Sorry I left ya by yourself. Gettin’ through these guys is like wading through molasses.”

Albert continued, exasperated. “Race, I told’ja, I been fuckin—”

“Oh you been FUCKIN?” Race’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head.

“Bitch, let me finish my sentence. I—”

“ _ Hey Jack, Al’s been fuckin’! _ ”

Jack dropped David’s hand, standing up. “A’right a’right, that’s enough a’ that.”

He looked back and forth between Albert and Race. Race was fuming, and Albert was just flat pissed.

Jack continued. “Okay ya both right, and ya both wrong.”

Race opened his mouth to protest, but Jack spoke over him. “Now, your ‘domestic schedule’ ain’t none o’ my concern, but the general welfare of you shitheads is. Race, lay off the guy, he’s just having fun.” Jack put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, giving him a tight, sympathetic smile.

“And Al,” he shifted towards the redhead, lightly smacking him on the shoulder with the back of his hand, “hang out with Race. He misses ya.”

Albert and Race both pouted, and Spot somehow managed to hold back a snicker. David, for his part, couldn’t help his fond smile. Jack never ceased to amaze him.

Jack turned back to David and shot him a cringing smile. “Told’ja they’s a lot.” He stepped closer, grabbing David’s waist and gently pulling him up against him. “I hope me havin’ kids ain’t a deal breaker. Fourteen’s a lot, I know, but at least me and the missus got shared custody.” He jerked his head back and to the side, indicating Crutchie, who was solving an argument over whether Finch was cheating at UNO or not.

David laughed. “They are a lot. They’re kind of great, though.”

A little grin slid onto Jack’s face and he bumped his nose against Dave’s. “You really think so?”

His answer was cut off as Race let out a call of, “Groooooss,” and was promptly smacked in the back of the head by Albert. This immediately devolved into the two wrestling and slapping and shouting at each other, all while Race remained seated on Spot.

“Yeah,” David told Jack. “It’s a good kind of crazy. Like a family.”

There was a loud yelp as Spot abruptly stood up, unceremoniously dumping Race on the floor. Jack looked back over his shoulder at the sudden increase in noise, and laughed. “Okay, lets give these crazy kids some room.”

He took ahold of one of David’s hands and led him over to one of the wide, low armchairs that was situated in the corner. Buttons, Jojo, Henry, and Ike were taking up the other chairs nearby, exchanging gossip. Jack sat down, making sure he didn’t take up the whole chair. It was deep, and wide, and there was plenty of room for two, even three people, if you got real cozy. He patted the spot next to him, inviting David to sit down. He did so without hesitation and snuggled into Jack’s side. It was really nice.

“You two are adorable together,” Buttons cooed, smiling sweetly from ear to ear.

Jack shifted, nestling back into the corner of the chair and pulling David with him so the two were half reclined, with David partway into Jack’s lap, leaning back against his chest. He smiled. “Thanks, Buttons. Like I said though, ‘s all Davey.”

David rolled his eyes. “As if.”

“It’s true!” Jack insisted, dropping a short kiss on the back of David’s head.

“It’s not true,” David mouthed silently to Buttons, Henry, and Ike.

Buttons giggled.

The five of them sat there chatting, and after a few minutes, having somehow extracted himself from Race’s clutches, Spot Conlon walked over.

Jack tilted his head up momentarily, nodding in greeting. “Heya, Spot. What’s up?”

Spot returned the acknowledgement, resting his arm on the back of their chair. “Can I borrow Dave for a second?”

David blinked. “Oh.” He glanced at Jack. “Um, sure.”

He stood up and nervously followed Spot into the hallway, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. What on Earth could Spot Conlon want with him that couldn’t be said in front of Jack? He cleared his throat and tried his very best to be casual. “What’s up?”

Spot turned to face him, arms crossed over his chest. He was at least six inches shorter than David, but at least six times more intimidating, too. “Dave, right? You’re on my floor in Rubin.”

David nodded.

Spot exhaled. “Morris and Oscar. They’re...” He sighed, frowning. “Are you okay rooming with them?”

Ah,  _ that’s _ what this was about.

The honest answer was a resounding  _ fuck no _ , they’re assholes, they’re homophobic, they come home drunk every weekend, they leave pizza boxes everywhere as if they’re trying to make David trip on them.

He went with the polite answer, the one that wouldn’t cause trouble or rock the boat. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Spot narrowed his eyes at him. “You sure? If it’s a problem I can talk to the RHD about getting you moved.”

“Don’t worry about it,” David insisted. “I mean, I won’t want to room with them in the fall, but I can do anything for a semester, right?” He forced a smile.

Spot grunted. “Alright, suit yourself.” He turned to walk back into the lounge, but stopped, facing Dave again and pointing at him. “If anything happens though...”

David got the distinct feeling he would be made to regret it if he didn’t comply with Spot’s instructions. “I will let you know.”

The shorter boy nodded brusquely. “Alright.” He paused, trying to alleviate the awkwardness by glaring at it. “If you need anything...” and he turned and walked back into the lounge.

David remained in the hall for several seconds, trying to make sense of that interaction. Finally, he walked back inside and located Jack as quickly as he could.

It didn’t take long.

Jack was standing on top of the table that had been previously inhabited by a game of UNO, and he was very loudly and dramatically telling a story. “So I knew if they found me I’d get reported or whatever an’ get thrown in the lock up. Well, I wasn’t about to let that happen. At least, not before I’d gotten the coats back to the kids. So’s I di —” Jack locked eyes with Dave, and froze.

“No, go on.” David gestured to him to continue. “I’d like to hear the rest of this.”

Jack swallowed, suddenly visibly nervous. He dropped his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets. “So uh, y’know those circle shaped clothes racks that everyone used to hide in as kids? Well, they’re actually just as good as we all thought, ‘cause I spent half the night in the middle of one, under a pile of coats.”

There was scattered laughter and commentary from the boys, all of whom were entirely consumed in Jack’s story.

He continued, much more subdued than before. “Well, eventually security left the main room, looking in elevators and stuff tryin’ to find me, and I managed to get myself and all twenty-two coats into the break room and out a window.”

More laughter, and he smiled sheepishly, avoiding meeting David’s eyes. “It was almost morning by the time I got to the home, and I had to figure out how to get twenty-two puffy coats up my water spout and back through the window.”

Snickers littered the room as the boys quietly guessed increasingly ridiculous ways Jack could have done it.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I ended up putting seven of ‘em on over top of each other and tied the other fifteen, ten around my waist—stacked all the way from my hips to my armpits, it sucked—and the last five split between my two arms.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Jack stepped down from the table, waving off the boys that smacked at him, yelling for a conclusion.

“A’right a’right!” he conceded, holding his hands up in surrender. “It took a hell of a lot longer than I was happy wit’, but I got ‘em all in. I didn’t have enough, a’course, but we was all pretty small back then, so we managed two boys to a coat. Used ‘em for extra blankets. ‘Course we had to hide ‘em during the day, what with them being stolen and all...”

He trailed off, and the guys laughed again, returning to their games and conversations.

David felt like he had missed an important part of that story while he was in the hallway. He approached Jack. “Sounds like you were quite a kid.”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I guess that’s one way of lookin’ at it...”

David narrowed his eyes. “Are you...embarrassed?”

He dropped his hand with a small, rough exhale. “Yeah? Well no, not  _ embarrassed _ it’s just...”

“Just...?”

Jack exhaled roughly again, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt, his jacket having been abandoned long ago. “I just don’t want you to think bad ‘a me.”

David didn’t get it. “For...doing funny stuff when you were a kid?

He let out a little huff of laughter. “I more meant for being a criminal, but sure.”

Oh. Yes, David supposed that was a problem. At least, it certainly could be, if he let it. He considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “Sarah once stole a quart of chocolate milk from Walgreen’s.”

Jack smiled, but it was clearly strained. “‘S a little bit different, but...”

“Are you always this self-deprecating?” David joked. He gave Jack a quick kiss. “You were a kid. I’m not going to judge you.”

Jack answered with a tight smile, and a quick squeeze of Dave’s hand, but not much else. David wanted to ask what was wrong, but was halted by a voice shouting, “Hey Jack, David, you two want to play some Smash?”

Jack jumped at the opportunity. “If by ‘play’ you mean wipe the floor with all a’ ya, then hell yes!” He strode over quickly and vaulted the back of the couch, landing with a thud between Mush and Jojo. David shook his head and laughed. He liked this playful side of Jack, who currently had his foot planted on the side of Jojo’s face as the two struggled over the ‘player one’ controller. 

“You coming, Dave?” Mush called over the back of the couch.

As David made his way over, Mush turned to the ongoing brawl between Jack and Jojo and rolled his eyes. “I vote we make Dave ‘player one’.”

Jack froze, having wrestled his way onto his back in the middle of the couch, successfully holding Jojo back with both feet braced against his shoulders. “That’s a damn fine idea, Mush.” He nodded, and dropped his legs, resulting in Jojo crashing forward onto him.

“Wow, what ever did I do to be worthy of such an honor?” David asked sarcastically.

“Got Jack to shut up about Katherine after two fucking years!” Kid Blink shouted from a couple seats away.

A controller flew across the room and crashed off of Kid Blink’s chest. “I swear to god, Blink, I’ll throw you next!” Jack threatened good naturedly.

Crutchie raised his hand. “Jack talks about Dave more than he talked about Katherine!”

“Who’s Katherine?” David asked.

There was a collective hissing intake of breath as all the boys within earshot cringed.

Jack waved his hand dismissively as his cheeks flushed pink. “My ex, no big deal.”

That definitely shouldn’t have made David as uncomfortable as it did. He knew Jack had dated people before him. Of course, he had. It  _ was _ no big deal.

“Oh.”

Jack stared at him for a beat to long, chewing on his lip, before he quickly turned his attention to the screen. “Okay, so are we playin’ or what?

“Yeah,” David said, going to sit in an available chair near the television. He took the coveted ‘player one’ controller from Jojo and selected a random character. And if he had forgotten that he had a jealous streak, it wasn’t a problem, he took it out on the game.


	15. Jack the Unicorn Finds a Sugar Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's filler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, writing make-out scenes with your sister IS as uncomfortable as it sounds, thanks for asking. This is your last dose of fluff before we dump buckets of angst on you for a few chapters, so uh...enjoy?

After a few hours of pure, unadulterated chaos, Jack and Davey had managed to extract themselves from the crowd, with promises of movie nights and dinners and other such things.

Jack heaved a big sigh, stretching his arms up overhead and twisting back and forth as they stood in the elevator. “So, you survived the gauntlet.”

“Yeah,” Davey leaned back against the wall, exhausted. “I guess I did.”

Jack dropped his arms, smiling wanly. “You alright?”

“Mmhm,” Davey hummed. Jack gave him a look, and he offered a smile. “I’m great. I had fun, Jack. I’m just tired.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Jack nodded. He was relieved, but at the same time even more nervous. Davey  _ had _ seemed to have fun, and wasn’t too put off by the guys, but maybe he was just being polite…

Jack bit back a cringe. And that stupid story. He hadn’t planned for Dave to hear that.

“Are  _ you  _ alright?” Davey asked, looking at Jack suspiciously.

He nodded a bit too quickly. “Yeah, I’m great.”

Davey took his hand. This time, it was deliberate, not like the other times when he didn’t even seem to realize what he was doing.

A genuine smile appeared, and Jack closed his fingers around Davey’s.“Hey.”

Davey looked up. “Hey?”

Jack squeezed his hand. “Thanks for dealing with my shit.”

Davey grinned. “They’re not shit, Jacky. I liked them.”

Jack laughed outright at this. “I meant everything, but yeah the guys are pretty shit.”

The elevator dinged to a stop on the first floor, and they stepped out. Jack paused, dropping Davey’s hand to put his jacket on. He looked down as he hooked the zipper, glancing sideways at Davey out of the corner of his eye. It was only a matter of time before something popped. How close they all were, that story, the mention of Katherine. Jack grit his teeth. Davey would want to know about Katherine. If this lasted long enough, he’d want to know everything. Jack felt a weight in the pit of his stomach. Apprehension. Everyone else had left, or sent him away. He wondered what the breaking point would be for Davey Jacobs.

“Well,” Davey said as they stepped out into the hall, “it  _ is  _ kind of my job.”

Jack smiled tightly, catching ahold of his hand again. “Well, I hope it’s a good enough job to stick with. I hear there’s lots of room for promotion in this field.”

Davey tripped over his own feet, just barely avoided getting intimately acquainted with the floor tiles.

“Alright there Davey?” Jack laughed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m...fine.” Davey nodded resolutely. “I’m fine.”

He hesitated. That was definitely hesitation. Was he lying? What if he’d  _ already  _ decided enough was enough, and was just waiting for the right time to drop it. Jack shook his head shortly, as if his brain was an Etch-A-Sketch and he could wipe the unpleasant thoughts away. He knew he was being paranoid. Davey wouldn’t lie; he was much too good for that.

Jack looked at Davey, and got stuck, softly staring. He wasn’t good, he was  _ wonderful _ . Aside from Crutchie, Jack had never met someone so kind, and caring. And  _ smart,  _ goddamn. Davey was smarter than anyone. Not to mention upsettingly pretty. He was always meticulously tidy, and Jack thought that was adorable, and strangely endearing, compared to the mess and mayhem he was used to. But when he lost his polish a bit? His hair slightly out of place, or a button more than usual undone. God, he was breathtaking.

Davey covered his face with his free hand. He whined, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Cause you’re pretty.” Jack bumped his hip sideways against Davey, smiling.

“Shut up.”

“Come on, pretty boy, lemme walk you home.” He slid an arm around Davey’s waist.

Davey whined some more. “I’m not pretty.”

Jack shook his head, shushing as he pressed a kiss against the side of his head.

“ _ Goddamnit. _ ”

There was a whirl of motion so fast, Jack didn’t even know what was happening. Then, his back was against the wall, Davey’s hands were fisted in the front of his shirt, and Davey was kissing him really fucking hard. His yelp of surprise was cut off by Davey’s mouth on his. After half a second of stunned surprise, Jack’s brain caught up with what was happening. He caught ahold of David’s hips, pulling him flush against him as he kissed back. Davey moved his hands to Jack’s shoulders, then into his hair. He let out a soft whimper, and Jack just about melted, but then he pulled away.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jack spoke breathlessly, with the end of his sentence running right into another kiss as he grabbed the front of Davey’s shirt, up by his chest, and yanked him forward again, crashing their lips together.

Davey was clinging to Jack like a lifeline, like he needed him to breathe. He kept moving his hands, like he didn’t know what to do with them, but he didn’t break the kiss again.

Jack’s mouth worked furiously against Davey’s. Hungry, needy, desperate. He let go of his shirt, one hand sliding around to press against the small of his back, holding him tight against him. The other hand slid up the back of his neck to tangle in Davey’s hair. Davey relaxed into his touch, practically collapsing against him, and his hands finally settled on either side of Jack’s neck. He responded to the kiss with equal enthusiasm, sighing and continuing to make breathy little noises that were getting dangerously close to moans, and that needed to  _ stop  _ if Jack was to maintain what little composure he had left. Unfortunately, impulse control and Jack Kelly had never been that well acquainted. So, rather than gently breaking the kiss and resuming their walk through the pleasant spring evening, Jack slid his hand from Davey’s back down to his hip, and gripped  _ hard _ . As he continued the unbroken string of frantic kisses, his other hand lightly fisted in Dave’s hair, carefully pulling to tilt his head back. The noise Davey made then was  _ definitely  _ a moan. Good to know.

Jack paused a moment, grinning, then ducked his head down, pressing a deep kiss to the underside of Davey’s jaw, right where the neck connected.

“Shit,” Davey breathed, putting his hands back in Jack’s hair.

Maintaining his hold on Davey’s hip, keeping him held tight against him, Jack turned his head a little bit, tilting so that his mouth brushed over Davey’s ear as he breathed out. “Have I mentioned today how fucking  _ gorgeous _ you are?” At ‘gorgeous’, he briefly tightened his grip, digging his thumb into his hip as he began to mouth his way from behind Davey’s ear down towards his shoulder.

Davey dropped his forehead onto Jack’s shoulder and groaned. “Jackyyy...”

Suddenly, the world shattered, and Jack was screaming as a bucket of cold water splashed over the two of them. Davey stumbled backwards a step or two, stunned, and almost tripped over Albert, who was standing there, bucket in hand, cackling. Mush and Finch were there as well, hanging off of each other and wheezing with laughter. David looked properly terrified, backing up until his back hit the other wall, glancing erratically between Albert, Mush, Finch, and Jack.

Jack was gasping, standing frozen with his arms held up, the way one usually recoils when hit in the back with cold water. After a moment he found his voice, and shouted over the laughter of the other three. “Where the  _ fuck _ did you get a  _ bucket!? _ ””

This only egged Albert and the others into more hysterics. Jack gestured emphatically at the now soaked floor.

“This is carpet! Who the hell pours buckets of water over carpet?”

Albert, still cackling, managed to get, “Ain’t my hall, ain’t my problem,” out around bouts of wheezing laughter.

Davey curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Despite the freezing water, his cheeks were bright red.

Shaking water off his arms at the useless pile of boys as he passed, Jack crossed the hall and enveloped Davey in a big bear hug, pulling him tight against his chest, with one arm wrapped securely around his waist, and the other over his back, with his hand at the back of his head.

“The  _ fuck  _ is wrong with you guys?” Jack spat, but there was clearly no venom in it.

Finch offered an exaggerated shrug. “We’re not the ones practically fucking in the hallway.”

“Yeah, cause you ain’t got nobody to fuck with!”

“Ooh, burn!” Albert shouted, smacking Finch on the back.

Davey shivered.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Get the hell outta here, all of you.”

With more snickering and teasing, Albert and co. disappeared down the hallway.

Jack wrapped his arms tighter around Davey, pressing his mouth against the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, baby, are you okay?”

“I’m cold,” Davey said miserably.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He squeezed the boy in his arms, planting another kiss on top of his head.

Davey stepped back and dragged his fingers through his wet hair. “I should be getting home.”

“Yes, of course.” With a guilty smile, Jack held out his hand, hoping for Dave to take it. He tried his damndest not to let on how worried he was. The ‘crazy shit’ meter filled more, every second.

David took his hand like it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world, and the two of them stepped out into the street. While the weather had been getting warmer, the nights were still chilly, and when soaked to the bone with cold water, they were downright frigid. Davey shivered hard and sidled up to Jack so that their shoulders were touching. Jack held on tight to him, and they hurried across campus. It was only a ten minute walk to Davey’s dorm, but they were still miserable and shivering violently by the time they got there.

As soon as his building came into view, Davey dissolved into near hysterical laughter. Jack startled, and looked at Davey in confused concern. Davey was clearly trying to explain, but couldn’t get a word in. Jack just stared. There were any number of reasons Davey could be laughing, but Jack couldn’t settle on any of the good ones.

Finally, Davey managed to squeak out, “My roommates are going to wonder why I’m soaked.”

Jack blinked, then sputtered into laughter as well.

“Help.” Davey grabbed Jack’s shoulders. His hands were shaking. “What do I tell them?”

“Water balloon fight? Some sort of rush thing for a frat?” Jack paused, and exploded into laughter again. The concept of Davey Jacobs rushing a frat was the funniest goddamn thing he’d ever thought of.

“They’re going to find out,” Davey said. He wasn’t laughing, anymore. He sounded very small. “Everyone’s going to find out.”

That sobered Jack right up. He put his hands firmly on Davey’s shoulders. “Hey. No one’s gonna find out anything you don’t want them to.”

He meant it to be reassuring, but the words stung as they left his mouth. Jack tried to reason with himself. Of course Davey didn’t want his violent, homophonic roommates to find out he was dating a guy. And if too many people knew, it could easily get back to them. That was all. Davey wasn’t a _ shamed _ of Jack. But the way Davey was looking at him, the expression on that pretty face nearly broke Jack’s heart. He looked so sad, so defeated. After an agonizing moment, he wrapped his arms around Jack and pulled him into a tight hug.

Jack held onto him like he was the only thing keeping him grounded, burying his face in Dave’s shoulder. He chastised himself. He should be thinking about Davey, and how to help him with this genuinely problematic and unsafe situation. But he couldn’t keep the dread from creeping around the edges of his vision. Maybe he would decide that there was too much of a risk to be worth it. Maybe he’d stay, but never feel safe. Maybe he’d stay and get  _ hurt _ .

“Maybe they’ll be at a party,” Davey sighed, “or passed out drunk.”

Jack felt like he was drowning. All this worry, all this fear, this was his fault. Sure Davey would probably still be gay, regardless of Jack, but he wouldn’t have to worry so much about people finding out. With Jack, he might as well have been carrying a neon sign on his back with speakers mounted, screaming out, ‘Look at me, I’m so gay’.

“You don’t have to go back.” Jack blurted out in a rush.

Davey chuckled dryly. “Yes, I do.”

He shook his head. “You don’t. We could go back to mine. We could get your clothes dried, and then you could say you went to visit your family or something.”

“Or I could get over this stupid fear of people finding out I’m gay.” Davey pulled out of the hug and held Jack’s hands, instead.

“But what about your roommates?”

“I don’t care what they think.”

Jack tightened his grip on Davey’s hands. “I’m not worried about what they might think so much as what they might  _ do _ .”

“Come on, Jack. They’re stupid, but they’re not  _ that _ stupid.” Davey didn’t even sound sure of that as he said it.

Jack sighed, not believing him even a little bit. “If anything happens.  _ Anything _ . You tell me. If either a’ them even  _ looks  _ at you wrong.”

“I will tell you.” Davey kissed him gently. “I promise.”

Jack grumbled. “You better.” He was struggling to keep himself from being wildly and inappropriately protective. It was waaaaay too soon for him to be this wound up.

Davey kissed him again. “Have a good night, Jacky. Thank you for letting me meet your friends.”

As Davey tried to turn and leave, Jack caught his wrist and pulled, yanking him back around. He wrapped both his arms around his waist, pulling him in and holding tight as he pressed a deep kiss into his lips.

Davey was laughing when they broke apart. “You, Jack Kelly, may be the clingiest man I have ever met.”

Jack whined. “I can’t help it, you’re...” He gestured weakly towards him.

Even the stupid, shit-eating grin that spread across Davey’s face at that looked good on him. “I’m what?”

Jack blushed. He was flustered. No one made Jack Kelly flustered. Not even tall, smart,  _ beautiful _ Jewish boys. He shoved his shoulder gently. “Get outta here before I kiss you again.”

Davey made it into the doorway before turning around. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

Jack grinned briefly before he turned to walk off. “If you’re lucky.”

* * *

David was halfway up the stairwell when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, and paused, seeing Jack’s name on the new message notification. Maybe he’d forgotten something? Though that didn’t really make much sense. He swiped the text open.

“ _ Goddammit _ ”

Another one came in just as he opened the first.

“ _ What have you done to me? _ ”

David bit his lip to control what was bound to be a really dumb-looking grin. He turned sideways on the stairs and leaned on the rail to type out a reply. “ _ Voodoo _ .”

“ _ You bastard _ ”

David bit his lip harder. He was so damn into this boy. He hadn’t been like this since...

Hell, he hadn’t  _ ever _ been like this.

His smile faltered. The only way this could possibly end was very, very badly.

“ _ You like me, _ ” he texted.

“ _ Holy shit you  _ are  _ brilliant. I didn’t think anyone had caught on, I’ve been so subtle. _ ”

David chuckled. “ _ That’s why they pay me to go to school. _ ”

“ _ I’m sorry I thought your major didn’t cover things like kissing. Doesn’t me liking you fall into that same category? _ ”

Damn it. “ _ Okay, you got me. _ ” He continued up the stairwell. “ _ But you  _ do _ like me. _ ”

“ _ Hmm, maybe they’ll give you extra credit for working outside your specialization _ “

David stepped out of the stairwell and into the hallway. “ _ Why are you texting me two minutes after you left? Do you miss me that much or do you have an ulterior motive? _ ”

“ _ I have at least eighteen ulterior motives. _ ”

David smiled and cringed at the same time. It was clearly a joke, and yet, they always did, didn’t they? “ _ I knew it. You only want me for my impeccable taste in ice cream. _ ”

“ _ Nah bb it’s all about that scholarship money. _ ”

Another text arrived immediately. “ _ I never thought I’d find a sugar daddy in the dining hall, but here we are. _ ”

David snorted. How did he ever live without this idiot? “ _ I think sugar daddies are supposed to be older than you. _ ”

He reached his room and said a silent prayer that it would be empty before opening the door. It wasn’t. Oscar Delancey was sitting at his desk, leaning over a notebook and glaring at his laptop. He glanced over his shoulder as David entered the room, and grunted a greeting as he returned to his homework.

Another text pinged in. “ _ Well I don’t have the money to be a sugar daddy, so it’s gonna have to be you. _ ”

As quickly as he could, David grabbed clothes and a towel and ducked into the bathroom before Oscar noticed he was decidedly still damp. He closed the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. “ _ I’m going to be the worst sugar daddy ever. I don’t even have a job. _ ” David told Jack.

“ _ The great Davey Jacobs, bad at something? Sounds very unlikely. _ ”

David began drying himself as quickly as he could. The sooner he got dried off and into his pajamas, the sooner he could warm up and stop worrying about any potential questions his roommate might ask. He paused momentarily to reply to Jack, “ _ Incompetence? In MY Davey Jacobs? It’s more likely than you think. _ ”

It took almost a full minute for the reply to come through. “ _ You’re ridiculous _ ”

By that time, David was dressed in a warm, dry pair of clothes and relaxing significantly. “ _ What does that make you? _ ”

“ _ Whatever you want me to be, baby  _ ** _;)_ ** ”

David stared at the screen for a solid thirty seconds before he remembered how to form words, much less coherent sentences. Even then, the ones he chose were, “ _ A unicorn. _ ”

“ _ Careful what you wish for _ ”


	16. Jack Is Fifty Shades of Fucked Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah comes to visit, Jack doesn't seem quite like himself, and David tries to get to the bottom of the latter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Angst Hotel. You have a reservation for the foreseeable future. We hope you enjoy your stay. 
> 
> We've got warnings, now. Please heed them, and be aware that they may apply to this and all future chapters.

David bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling very silly about it but unable to stop. It was March seventh, and David was in the airport, and Sarah would be there at any moment.

Unfortunately, Trinity University’s Spring Break did not coincide with NYU’s, so Sarah planned to spend the weekend with David, then take a bus upstate to visit the rest of the family during the week, before returning to Manhattan for the last couple days of her break. David didn’t want to waste any of what little time he had with his sister.

He was standing a short way back from the base of the escalators that led to and from the terminal, looking around absently at the kiosks and Chili’s To Go and other such things. His head snapped back around as he heard shouting from the top of the escalator, and, looking up, he saw Sarah, duffel bag clutched in her hands, trying to shoulder her way through the crowd of recently deplaned passengers.

Seeing Sarah again was like taking a breath of fresh air. She really was like David’s other half. He broke into a jog as she made her way down the escalator, and met her at the bottom. She came crashing off the escalator and barreled into him, nearly knocking him over with a hug that was more tripping than anything else. Luckily, at some point during their teenage years, he had grown slightly larger than her, so he managed to stay balanced under the combined weight of her and her duffle.

“Hey!” he laughed. “How was your flight?”

“Oh my goddddd, it was so boring! My podcasts wouldn’t load, and I finished my book a lot quicker than I thought I would. I shoulda brought another one,” ahe grumbled.

The siblings truly were two sides of the same coin. They were both bookish, whip smart, and had a healthy streak of sass and sarcasm. They looked very much alike—as twins are wont to do—however, where David was shy and introverted, Sarah was boisterous and overeager. The majority of their childhood friendships had developed out of Sarah forcing herself into a group, and dragging David with her. She was bright and confident, and people loved her. A lot of people had asked David if he felt overshadowed or was jealous of her, but he always found the concept laughable. They were a team, they had different strengths, and he admired her greatly, as she did him.

“Well, we’ll have to have extra fun to make up for it.” David turned and started leading her out of the airport. “Are you hungry? There’s this little diner near my dorm that Jack showed me when we first met. It’s actually great.”

Sarah shimmied her shoulders. “Ooh, talking about him already, are we? I think we’ll have to hold off on lunch; I gotta meet this kid.”

“First of all,” David began, “he’s not a kid. He’s twenty-three. Second, am I not enough for you?” He pouted.

She laughed, shoving him good naturedly. “I’ve had you my whole life; you’re old news!”

David held his hands up in surrender and tried his best to look offended. “Fine! I’ll invite him to lunch.”

* * *

About half an hour later, David and Sarah were sitting in a booth at the deli, catching up on the minutia of each other’s lives while they waited for Jack. Sarah was just telling David about some super annoying guy in her sociology class when the heavy tin bells over the door jangled as it opened. 

“Babe!”

And there was Jack, all smiles as he walked towards them. David scooted over on his side of the booth, expecting Jack to sit down next to him, but Jack made a beeline for Sarah. He moved as though he were going to kiss the top of her head and sit down with her, but just before impact he froze, and his eyes went wide as dinner plates.

“Shit, wrong twin!” He quickly straightened up and retreated to David’s side as Sarah burst into laughter.

“See?” Jack stage whispered to him. “I told you this was gonna be a problem!”

David pushed his shoulder lightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“What does that make you?” Jack winked, leaning sideways to bump him with his shoulder.

David gasped in mock offense. “Don’t use my own words against me!”

Jack dropped his voice so Sarah couldn’t hear. “Whatever you say, daddy.” Dave choked on his water as Jack straightened up immediately, stretching his arm across the table to shake Sarah’s hand with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Sarah, hi. Jack Kelly. It’s nice to meet you.”

She was laughing as she shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too, Jack.” She looked at Dave. “You told me he was pretty, but damn. You’ve got better taste than I do!”

Now Jack was laughing.

David smiled at him. “I know.”

Sarah began to interrogate Jack, asking things like where he was from, what he wanted to do with his major, what  _ actually _ happened in the dining hall, and so on and so forth. David noticed that Jack very carefully didn’t say anything that even pointed at his life in the foster system, or how he grew up. He supposed he understood why Jack was secretive about it. Everyone had things they didn’t want to talk about. Still, David wondered who made Jack ashamed of that, as if it was his fault.

“So, Jack,” Sarah said, “What on  _ Earth _ got you caught on my dumbass brother?”

Jack smiled easily, looking over at David. “Well, like I said, it was all Crutchie’s fault. He’s always known what’s best for me before I even thought of it, but...” He moved his hand to place it on top of David’s on the table. “I think Crutchie didn’t really realize what a good thing he threw me at.”

At what point in a relationship was it okay to cry on your lover for being too goddamn sweet? David leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder, wondering how the hell he got so lucky.

Jack moved his arm to slip around his waist, but kept his attention on Sarah. “This dumbass of yours is the smartest ass I’ve ever met. An’ I mean that both ways, he’s a smart ass, and also he’s an ass, and smart.”

David chuckled. “Your way with words is the most attractive thing about you.”

Jack pinched him. “Hey, I’m not majoring in mouth stuff, you can’t lecture me.”

“It’s writing stuff.”

“We’ve been over this before.” Jack poked the tip of Dave’s nose. “You speak it, so it’s mouth stuff.”

Sarah was helpless with laughter. “Who the hell is this adorable couple and where is my dorky brother?”

“Who is this adorable brother and where is my dorky boyfriend?” Jack teased.

Davey swore to god, he’d never get tired of Jack calling him that.

Lunch was fun, lunch was easy. Jack and Sarah got along as if they’d known each other for years, and David just basked in the presence of his two favorite people. It startled him a little, realizing Jack was one of his favorite people, after barely a month of knowing each other, but he was. He really was, and David wondered if this was what being in love felt like. God, that was a big word, love, especially for someone as new and uncharted as Jack Kelly. David felt like he knew him, but did he really? How could he possibly? But no amount of logic could shake the feeling that he was meant to meet Jack, and they were meant to be together.

At one point, Jack excused himself to field a phone call from Charlie, and the second he turned his back, Sarah lunged across the table, grabbing ahold of her brother’s hands.

“Okay, so where’s this dining hall? ‘Cause I need to get me one of those,” she said, jerking her head towards Jack.

David laughed. “I take it you approve, then?”

“No, dipshit, he’s the worst. Of course, I approve!”

“I was being sarcastic. Calm down. I know he’s wonderful.”

A grin spread across her face. “You are  _ so _ far gone, and I  _ love _ it.”

“No shit;  _ look _ at him,” David groaned. “I’m so screwed.”

Sarah tried her best to stifle her giggles as Jack returned to the table.

“Sorry about that, kids. Crutchie couldn’t find the fabric softener, and it’s my fault.”

Sarah frowned, confused. “You keep talking about ‘Crutchie?’”

“His roommate, Charlie,” David explained.

She nodded. “Weird nickname, but okay.”

“Oh, well, he’s got a bad leg, so he’s got a cane, or sometimes a crutch when it’s real bad.” Jack explained, and Sarah nodded again.

“What actually happened to his leg?” David inquired. “Can I ask that?”

Jack shrugged. “It’s always been like that.”

“So how did you and ‘Crutchie’ meet?” Sarah asked, and David could feel Jack lock up next to him.

“They grew up together,” David interjected quickly .”Charlie’s really nice. You would like him.”

Jack put a hand on his knee and squeezed, a silent ‘thank you’.

“It’s really sweet that you guys live together, after having been friends for so long.”

Jack nodded, clearly a little uncomfortable at the proximity to details of his past. “Yeah, he might as well be my brother.”

David took Jack’s hand beneath the table. He hoped Jack knew he didn’t have to say anything, but he also hoped Jack knew he could if he wanted.

Jack was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the rest of lunch. Leaving most of the conversation for Sarah and David to catch up. He answered any questions posed to him with his usual amount of swagger and charm, but it sounded somewhat hollow, and he struck to broad strokes, avoiding any detail. Sarah probably didn’t notice, but David did. He didn’t like it. When they left the diner, he wanted desperately to go after him and make sure he was okay, but he couldn’t leave Sarah alone in Manhattan.

“I think you found a good one,” she said, smiling, as Jack disappeared around the corner. “So, where are we going now?”

David plastered a smile on his face. “Want to see campus?”

* * *

They were both exhausted by the time David dropped Sarah off at the hotel. She offered for him to stay with her, just like old times. Any other time, he would have jumped at the chance. Instead, he made an excuse about homework. The moment she disappeared, he wrote out a message to Jack.

“ _ Hey, are you okay? _ “

Nah, that wasn’t quite right. He backspaced.

“ _ Thanks for coming to lunch with us, today. You seemed a little _ ”

No.

He wrote that text about eight times before he pressed ‘call’ instead. The phone rang just enough times for him to get nervous before the call connected.

“Hiya, Davey.”

David jumped at Jack’s voice. “Hey! Hi. Sorry, I just wanted to check on you. You seemed a little upset at lunch, and I...yeah.”

Jack let out a little exhalation of awkward laughter. “Right, yeah, sorry about that. I’m fine.” There was a short pause before he continued in a noticeably brighter voice. “Your sister is awesome! You guys are so close, it must be really—”

“Jack,” David cut him off.

There was silence on the other end of the line.

He sighed. “You don’t have to tell me anything, just...don’t lie to me, okay?”

There was a long pause. “I haven’t lied about anything, Davey...”

“I know you’re not fine, Jack.”

A sigh, and a muffled “shit” before Jack continued. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make lunch weird. I knew this was really important to you, so...”

“It was,” David agreed, “and Sarah loved you. I really just need to know...” He cringed. They already established that he wasn’t fine. “How do I help you?”

“How do— what?”

David huffed. “How do I help you? I don’t want you to feel bad. I’m your boyfriend. I should do something.”

Jack let out a tired chuckle. “That’s really sweet, babe.”

David rubbed his forehead, biting back a growl of frustration. He took a deep breath. “Like I said, you don’t have to tell me anything, but...you can, you know? I’m not going to be mad or judge you. I just want to help.”

“I know...” Jack’s voice had gone quiet. He sounded...small.

David’s heart ached. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you more.”

“No, no, you didn’t. It’s fine, really.” He sighed. “I just...” He sighed again. “I don’t know how to...do this.”

David froze in his place, blood running cold. “Do what?”

Jack groaned. He tried and failed to start a few different sentences before settling on, “Do you...d’you wanna come over?”

Dave opened his mouth to answer but Jack was already talking again. “I’m sorry, that was dumb. It’s late. You don’t have to—”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

* * *

Jack was pacing furiously back and forth in the main room of the apartment. Walking from the couch, to the kitchen, to the door, and back again. Crutchie was already asleep, and every couple of minutes Jack started for the bedroom, planning to wake him up, but instead would stop short, and start pacing again. He nearly tripped over a chair when, after only thirteen minutes, there was a knock on the door. He hurried to open it, and there was Davey, a little out of breath, concern etched all over his features.

“Hey.”

Jack let out a shaky breath. “Hey, d’you wanna...?” He stepped back a bit, letting the door swing open.

Davey stepped inside, but didn’t go much farther than Jack, staying close.

Jack kept trying to start a sentence, but he didn’t even know what he wanted to say. He’d never shared the whole story with anyone aside from Crutchie. He never  _ wanted _ to share it. Not even with Katherine. Sure, she’d ended up hearing a lot of it, and the guys knew a good portion too but...he didn’t want to lie to Davey. He didn’t want to hide things from Davey...but he was terrified. Davey said he wouldn’t be mad. He said he wouldn’t judge. But that’s what everyone says. That’s what you’re  _ supposed _ to say when someone says they have baggage. Jack pulled a hand through his hair uncomfortably, making it stand on end.

“Jack, what’s going on?” Davey’s voice was strained. “Did I do something? Are you, uh...” He bit his lip and glanced away. When he looked back at Jack, his eyes were watering. “Why am I here?”

Jack met his eyes for the first time since his arrival. “I want—” He took a deep breath. “You said not to lie to you.”

Davey took a deep breath and nodded.

“So I’m not going to. I dunno it’s—” He grimaced. “You’re gonna think I’m an idiot.”

Davey smiled weakly. “I already think you’re an idiot.”

He let out a short, almost pained bark of laughter. “See, this is what I’m talking about. It’s stupid, I know, but I swear to god Davey, something about you is different.” He held his hands up immediately. “And I know, I know, that’s crazy, and we haven’t known each other very long, and all that. But you just...” He let his breath out slowly, catching ahold of both of Davey’s hands in his. “There’s something about you...”

He just looked at him for a second, before groaning and letting go again, moving over to sit on the arm of the couch. “I’m sorry. I’m an overdramatic mess. I just...” he laughed weakly. “Like I said, I don’t know how to do this.” He took a deep breath. “But that’s not the point. The point is, I’m okay if you know.” He swallowed, nervous. “Wherever that ends up, I’ll just have to deal with it. But you don’t want me to lie,” he laughed again, “and dammit if I won’t do whatever you want me to.”

Davey stared at him, completely dumbfounded, but at least he didn’t look like he was about to cry anymore.

Jack gripped the hem of his shirt tightly. “So...what do you want to know?”

Davey sputtered. “I don’t even know what’s going on! I sort of thought you were breaking up with me.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to stare dumbfounded. “Wh—why would I be breaking up with you!?”

“I don’t know!” Davey gestured wildly. “You were all upset, then you asked me to come over, and you’re being all cryptic.”

Jack laughed weakly. “Fuck...no.” He shook his head. “No, I’m not trying to break up with you. Shit, I thought we were still talking about me being weird at lunch. And...all the other times.”

Davey visibly relaxed.

Jack took a deep breath again. “Look. I’ve got a lot of shit.” He let out a short, pained laugh. “A lot. And most everyone in my life who I’ve told even just part of it decided it’s too much. So I don’t really let people know anymore. But...” He shrugged helplessly.

Davey shook his head. “If you don’t want to talk about it—”

Jack shook his head firmly. “I don’t mind. Not with you.”

“Okay.” Davey crossed the room to stand next to Jack. “What do you want to tell me?”

Jack shrugged. “I dunno...is there anything specific you  _ want _ to know? Or is it just a general ‘Hey, Jack, why are you such a fuckin’ mess’?”

Davey laughed softly. “You’re my favorite mess.”

Jack smiled a little, reaching out to grab Davey’s hand. “Should I just do cliffnotes, then?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Okay...but let me know when it’s too much and you want to—”

“It’s okay, Jack.” Davey squeezed his hand and offered a reassuring smile. “I’m here for you.”

_ Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts _ . Jack smiled tightly. “Well...I guess I should start off with, I’m not  _ technically _ an orphan.”

Davey nodded, urging him to continue. He shifted a little on the arm of the couch, moving so that he had Davey’s hand in both of his. Try as he might, he couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Mom died when I was pretty young. Like, four, I think. She’d had a lot of problems, and I guess she decided it wasn’t worth it. She downed a whole bottle of pain meds, or something stupid like that.” Jack cleared his throat. “Dad...I don’t know why, but he said it was my fault. I can’t even remember what he said I did but—” Jack swallowed and let out a weak laugh. “He tried to kill me.”

“God, Jacky...” Davey breathed. He placed his free hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“I mean he didn’t manage it, clearly.” Jack briefly let go of him with one hand to gesture at himself, laughing again. “The neighbors heard all the noise, and called the cops, and he’s been locked up ever since.” He took a shaky breath. “Sooo I got sent to the group home. Well,  _ a  _ group home. I’ve been in a couple. Some of ‘em were nice, or at least not unpleasant, but others not so much. I was a kinda scrawny kid in my early days, so I got beat up a lot.” He shrugged, scrunching his face up in a dismissive way. “Y’know, as ya do. That stopped around when I was seven though, after I figured out that I’m actually really good at kicking the shit out of people.”

Another weak laugh, and another failed attempt to meet Davey’s eyes. He  _ wanted _ to look at him. But he couldn’t bear to face the awful expression of horror, pity, and mild revulsion that he’d seen so many times before. Not on  _ his _ face. Not on Davey.

Davey just rubbed his shoulder and gripped his hands tightly.

Jack cleared his throat again, shutting his eyes tight as he felt tears pricking in the corners. “So uh, I was in and out of different foster homes. No one wanted to keep me so,” he laughed wetly, “I always ended up back at some group home. They put you in different ones, depending on how old you are, so I cycled through a few. Got transferred a couple times for causing too much trouble—like that whole coat stealing thing. I met Crutchie when I was nine, and thank god we were usually in the same group home. Most of the foster families were nice, but they said I didn’t  _ fit _ .” He winced out a little smile.

Jack took a deep breath, knowing if he stopped now he wouldn’t be able to start again. “Couple of the families were...real bad. Just your typical, various flavors of ‘why the fuck do these people want to be parents if they so clearly hate kids’.” He shivered. “‘Course, there was that one really nice family where—” His breath caught in his throat and he had to try again. “Uh, where the dad, um...well, he liked me a bit  _ too _ much.”

The air was starting to ring, and Jack closed his eyes tighter.

“I, uh, I almost killed him. Didn’t mean to, things just sorta went fuzzy, and then the cops were there, and they were taking me away instead of him.” He swallowed. “His family testified against me, of course. Said I just attacked him out of the blue. So I had a short stint in juvie.” Jack was suddenly very aware of the texture of his t-shirt, and he wasn’t happy about it. He wriggled a bit, but continued. “After that it was, uh, really just repetition. Stay in the group home, watching out for Crutchie, then spend maybe a month or so with a family, get sent back, and so on.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep his feet solidly on the ground and not float away. “I aged out at eighteen, adopted Crutchie as my dependent, and took him with me.”

Jack blinked, hard. He knew he was starting to panic, and he really didn’t want to.

“Two kids with no jobs, and no financial backing from parents or anything. One a cripple, and the other with a criminal history. None of that looks great on a renters application. So there’s your whole, sleeping in the library thing.” He gestured weakly, trailing off.

Davey kissed the top of his head, then knelt down in front of him, trying to meet his eyes. “Jack?” He reached out and cupped Jack’s cheek in his hand. “Breathe, Jacky.”

Jack tried to take a breath, but it turned out to be more of a sob. He clapped his mouth shut, pushing a closed fist against his lips.

Davey stood back up and pulled Jack into his chest. He buried his face in his hair and whispered, “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Tears were falling thick and fast, and Jack was getting pretty damn close to hyperventilating as he hung onto Davey as tight as he could, hands fisted in the sides of his shirt with his knuckles pressed white from gripping so hard.

Through the quickly descending haze of panic, Jack heard a door creak open. “What’s going on?”

Davey dragged his fingers through Jack’s hair. “Stay with me, Jacky,” he murmured. Then, louder, presumably to Crutchie, “Does he have panic attacks often?”

Jack was shaking, gasping for air as sobs tore through him. He could barely hear Crutchie as he told Dave that he hadn’t had one in a long time. He felt another pair of arms slide around him, and Crutchie was there. Arms tight around Jack’s waist, he pressed up against his back, and held on tight, keeping him anchored. It had been years since Jack had dug this deep into himself, let alone said any of it out loud. He constantly assured himself that it was all in the past—he was strong now, safe—but saying those things out loud ripped him open in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. And Davey—beautiful, kind,  _ darling _ Davey. What if, just like everyone else, he said it was too much? And now, he knows. He knows more than anyone.  _ Of course, _ it’s too much. You don’t dump that sort of shit on someone you’ve only known a month.

Jack could hardly breath, half from the panic, and half from pressing his face into Davey’s chest as he continued to shake with sobs.

Then, Davey’s voice was in his ear, soft and real. “Breathe, Jacky. I’m here for you.”

Crutchie was holding him in a tight bear hug, forehead leaned against his back as he murmured nonsense. None of the words registered in Jack’s mind, but the voice was helping pull him out of the fog. He started to become aware of Davey’s fingers running gently through his hair, and how he was gripping his shirt tight enough that it was hurting his hands. Jack took a deep, rattling breath.

“Hey, are you with us, Jack?” Davey pressed his lips to his temple. “Good job. Just breathe.”

Jack was breathing more evenly, still shaking like a leaf. He let out a little burst of laughter that was still mostly a sob. “Crutchie, are you reciting the grocery list?”

“I just woke uuup,” Crutchie whined.

Laughing weakly, Jack carefully unfisted one of his hands, moving to grip Crutchie’s arm gratefully. They stayed that way for a while, Jack clinging to Crutchie and Davey like a drowning man to a rope. No one tried to move or pull away. After a few minutes, once Jack’s breathing evened out again, he let go of Crutchie’s arm and Davey’s shirt. He sat up a bit straighter as Crutchie shifted backwards, giving him some space. Davey took a small step back as well.

Jack cleared his throat, once again having trouble meeting Davey’s eyes. “Sorry about that, guys...”

“No,” Davey said firmly. “Don’t ever be sorry about that.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by Crutchie standing up and squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. “I’m gonna give you kids some space. Shout if you need me.” He squeezed Jacks shoulder again, then shuffled back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a click. 

Jack opened his mouth to protest again, and Davey held up a hand to stop him. “I mean it. I get them, too. You don’t have any reason to be sorry.”

He closed his mouth again and nodded. Any minute now he was going to say he had to leave. A few days later he’d get the ‘maybe we should just be friends’ text, and then he’d never hear from Davey Jacobs again.

“Hey.” Davey brushed the back of his hand against Jack’s cheek.

Jack almost winced. It was always worse when they tried to pretend it wasn’t a problem.

Davey took his hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

He nodded, mutely.

“Do you want me to stay or go?”

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Jack finally managed to meet his eyes, and squeezed his hand. “If you want to go, if this was—”

“I didn’t say that,” Davey assured him. “I want to know what  _ you _ want.”

“I want you to stay.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

Jack let out a shaky breath. “Really, though, if you don’t want—”

Davey cut him off with a kiss. “Don’t even think it. I told you I’m here for you. I meant it.”

Jack grabbed his other hand. “Thank you.”

Davey nodded.

“I uh...I don’t really know where to go from here...you missed your cue to run about twenty minutes ago.”

He let out a surprised laugh at that. “Why would I run from the strongest, most incredible person I have ever met?”

Jack offered a tired smile. “Come on, you don’t have to be like that.”

“Like what?”

“All,” he waved his hand as if brushing away the words, “congratulatory or whatever. I’m not strong, or special or any of that, I just stayed alive.”

In the silence that followed, Jack wondered if he had finally gotten through to Davey that he was broken and a mess, and Davey could do better. Davey deserved better.

Davey sighed. “Jack, look at me.”

He hesitated, preparing for the ‘it’s just a lot to process’, speech, and looked up into Davey’s face.

“You are strong, and you are special.” Davey laughed, “God, you are  _ so _ special. I knew that before, and I know that now.”

Jack just bit his lip, dropping one of Davey’s hands to tug at the edge of his t-shirt again.

Davey rambled on. “I know I’m not saying the right things. I’m probably making it so much worse, and I’m sorry, but if you could just believe me that I would do anything to take all that from you, because you don’t deserve it—you of all people—”

Jack stood up suddenly, gripping both of David’s wrists and pulling him forward into a kiss. Davey was tense, and it took a few moments for him to relax and kiss back. However, almost as soon as he did, Jack let go, pulling away and breaking the kiss.

“Shit. I didn’t ask, again.”

Davey shook his head. “I’m your boyfriend. You don’t have to ask anymore.”

Jack frowned slightly, tilting his head. “I’m not sure consent stops being a thing once you’re in a relationship...”

Davey matched his expression, then shook his head again. “Whatever.”

Jack chuckled a little, still nervous. He couldn’t help it—he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it didn’t, at least for the time being.

Davey wrapped his arms around Jack and leaned his head on his shoulder. He exhaled softly, sounding sleepy. Jack slid his arms around his waist, resting his cheek against Davey’s hair.

“Do you wanna stay here tonight...?” Jack offered hesitantly.

“Do... _ you _ want me to stay here tonight?”

Jack sighed. “Davey, this isn’t about what I want.”

Davey opened his mouth—no doubt to disagree, and Jack started up again before he could get a word out. “I mean are you even  _ okay _ with all of this? I just unloaded literally a lifetime of shit on you, when all you had asked was if I was okay, cause I was weird at lunch with your sister.”

Davey backed up. “Of course I’m not  _ okay _ with it, Jack. You went through hell. I’m fucking heartbroken for you.”

Jack stayed quiet, waiting. There was always the sympathy response. ‘Poor Jack, that must have been so awful’. But it was usually followed by questions, concerns, discomfort. Katherine had tried to psychoanalyze him, curious ‘what damage such trauma must have inflicted on his still developing brain’, and from that moment on, he wasn’t much to her aside from another crazy story to explore and report. She had tried to convince him to let her write an article, wanting to publish it, or give it to NYU’s psych department, or something like that. A heartwarming sob story. Most others had reacted by distancing themselves, and entirely disappearing, because why wouldn’t they?

Davey ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged. “What do you want me to say, Jacky?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know...”

Davey reached out to Jack again. He rubbed his shoulder and spoke so softly, his voice was barely audible. “Tell me how to help you.”

He reached up, putting his hand over his. “Just...don’t go.”

Davey pulled him back into a hug. “I’m not going anywhere.” He said it like it was a promise, like he meant it.

Jack wrapped his arms around Davey carefully, as if he were afraid that he might break. He wanted to trust him. He  _ did _ trust him. Davey wasn’t shallow, he didn’t lie, if he said he was staying, Jack had to at least try to believe it.


	17. Boating in Blueberry Syrup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Davey independently come to the same revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff in between two angsty as shit chapters!

The sound of a text message startled David awake. He looked around in a feeble attempt to make sense of his surroundings. He wasn’t in his dorm room, that was for sure. He heard someone take a breath.

Jack. He was with Jack, in Jack’s bed. They had fallen asleep together, tangled in each other like vines, and it seemed neither of them had moved at all in the night. Charlie still slept soundly on the other side of the room. David pressed a kiss to Jack’s forehead and turned slowly, trying not to wake him as he reached for his phone on the bedside table.

A text from Sarah. “ _ Fuuuuuck, I’m still on Central Time. _ ”

David chuckled. The clock on his phone read ‘8:34am’. Eight-thirty probably sounded like a great time to set an alarm, until your body was convinced it was actually seven-thirty.

“ _ I’ll come get you. We can go to breakfast, _ ” he told her.

He set his phone back down. “Jack?” he said softly. He brushed some of Jack’s messy hair off his forehead. “Hey, Jacky.”

He wanted to tell Jack where he was going, or at least say goodbye, but Jack just shifted in his sleep and settled back down without opening his eyes. David sighed. He could leave a note. God knows Jack had plenty of paper and pencils lying around the room. He tore a blank piece out of an open sketchbook that lay on the floor nearby and wrote hastily, “ _ Went to hang out with Sarah. I’ll check in with you later. _ “ He added a heart, signed his name, and left the paper on the bedside table.

He found his clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed, having changed into a pair of Jack’s sweatpants and a t-shirt before sleeping. He changed quickly, lamenting the fact that Sarah would  _ definitely _ notice he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Before leaving, he took another look at Jack, sleeping soundly, looking peaceful. Jack deserved that. He deserved to be happy. He deserved to have everything.

“God help me,” David grumbled. He leaned in and brushed his lips over Jack’s cheek. “I love you.”

He slipped out of the room, then out of the apartment, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

It was another half hour before Jack sleepily blinked his eyes open. He grunted, stretching, and reached over to paw at the other side of his bed where Davey most decidedly wasn’t. He groaned, rolling over and shoving his face into his pillow.

If he didn’t get up, maybe yesterday never happened. Maybe he didn’t assault poor Davey with his ‘tragic backstory’. Maybe things would be okay. With a sigh, he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. No. He had to trust Davey. He said it was okay, so it had to be okay.

Jack rolled out of bed, letting himself slide to the floor, dragging his blankets with him. He shuffled into the other room, where Crutchie was eating a bowl of cereal, way too chipper for the morning.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Crutchie said with a grin.

Jack just groaned, shrugging his blanket cocoon closer around his shoulders.

Crutchie rolled his eyes as he spooned another mouthful of Fruity Pebbles into his face. “Did you see Dave’s note?”

Jack blinked blearily. “No.” Turning, he shuffled back into the bedroom, only tripping once, before returning with the note clutched in his hand. There was a little smile on his face, and he wrinkled up his nose, not quite giggling. “Lookit, this dumbass signed his name with a heart. What a fuckin’ cutie.”

Crutchie shrugged. “He loves you.”

Jack rolled his eyes, placing the note down on the table and heading into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee.

“What?” Crutchie’s grin had reached obnoxious proportions. “He does.”

Jack squinched up his whole face, half laughing. “What the hell got you so cheerful this morning?”

“Nothing!” Crutchie insisted, holding up his hands in surrender. He paused. “You and Dave are cute, is all.”

Jack smiled again, looking down into his coffee cup. After a moment, the smile slipped off, and doubt set in again. He looked up at Crutchie. “D’you think I fucked up?”

“No,” Crutchie said with absolute certainty.

“I dunno man.” Jack grimaced. “You’re the only person who’s never cared. And you were there too, so it’s not like you have a choice.” He laughed humorlessly.

“I think Dave’s different.” Crutchie got up to put his now empty cereal bowl in the sink. “He’s obviously special, if you told him.”

Jack shifted, dipping his shoulders sideways as if he was trying to dodge Crutchie’s words. “Of course he’s  _ different _ .” He gestured helplessly in front of him, as if Davey were in fact there. “I mean just look at him! Everything about him is different!”

Crutchie attempted to disguise his laugh by cleaning the dishes loudly.

“That’s why I’m scared...”

Crutchie side-eyed him. “Because you found a nice, intelligent, attractive guy who’s totally head over heels for you, who held you through a panic attack and then slept with you last night for God’s sake?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah.”

Crutchie turned off the water and turned around. “Do you hear yourself when you speak, or is it just the SpongeBob theme song on repeat in there?” He gestured vaguely at his own ear.

“More ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm’ than SpongeBob.” Jack nodded sagely, putting his coffee cup down on the counter. “But really, other than keeping you, when has anything like this worked out well for me?”

“You told Katherine pretty early on, and you dated her for a long time.”

Jack grumbled, “Yeah sure but she got super weird about it.”

“And Dave stuck with you and wrote you a cute little note and everything!” Crutchie exclaimed. “Jesus, Jack.”

Jack groaned, dragging his hands through his hair, making it all stand on end so he looked like a startled cockatiel. “You’re right, you’re right, I’m being a dickhead.” He sighed. “Man, I’m just really scared I’m gonna fuck this up. I’m pretty sure this kid is the best thing that’s happened to me since you, and I had to get legal custody of you to keep you with me!”

Crutchie nodded seriously. “Guess you’ll have to marry him.”

Jack choked, halfway between laughing and coughing. “Slow your roll there, kiddo, I don’t think you’re ready for a step dad.”

“Good thing you’re not my dad, then.” Crutchie stuck his tongue out at Jack.

He rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “I doubt he’d be up for it. Seems a bit too spontaneous for his tastes.”

Crutchie smirked. “Would you?”

This got a proper laugh. “Jesus, Crutchie, we haven’t even been together a month yet!” Jack found himself flushing as snippets of domestic life with Davey Jacobs flashed through his head. “Besides, I dunno if I could handle keeping my sock drawer color coded.”

“Oh my god, you’re thinking about it,” Crutchie giggled. He’d always been able to read Jack like a newspaper. “Look at you; you’re totally thinking about it!”

“Shut up!” Jack grabbed a dish rag off the counter and chucked it at his face.

Crutchie nearly fell over as he attempted to dodge. Balance was never his strong suit, for obvious reasons. “Okay, okay, just tell me this.” He made eye contact, indicating that his question was serious. “Do you love him? I mean, I know we’ve joked about it, but seriously.”

Jack spent a few seconds opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. “I...yeah, I think so.”

Crutchie broke into the biggest smile.

Jack groaned, rolling his eyes so hard that his head and upper body followed. “Shut up, I get attached fast, I know. It’s not like it’s on purpose!”

“You’ve gotta tell him.”

He let out a harsh laugh. “Yeh, right. Perfect follow up to my ‘tragic backstory’—telling a boy who I haven’t even been with for a month that I love him.  _ That’s _ not gonna come across as psycho.”

“Not if he loves you back.”

He just grimaced, shaking his head. “‘S not a good idea, Crutchie.”

“What if he dies in a boating accident, and you never told him?”

Jack just gaped at him, unable to form a cohesive response.

“See?” Crutchie pointed at him aggressively. “See, you need to tell him.”

“I—...I don’t think Davey boats reliably enough for that to be a concern...”

Crutchie let out a long, agonized groan. “ _ Jaaaaack _ .“

“What, what?” Jack whined. “I can’t just tell him I love him!”

“Why not?”

He sputtered. “We just covered this! It’s too soon to not be weird, and he isn’t an avid enough boater for it to be urgent!”

“But  _ he _ loves  _ you _ , damnit,” Crutchie insisted. “Jack, you’ve finally found yourself a really good thing. I’d hate to watch you not go for it because you’re scared.”

Jack groaned. “You don’t know that. What if he doesn’t?”

Crutchie started to disagree and Jack continued quickly. “I  _ know _ I’m being dumb or whatever, but just—”

“Trust me.”

* * *

_ “I’m in love with him _ .”

“Is this supposed to be some sort of big reveal?”

David groaned and flopped his head onto the table, not entirely missing a sticky spot of dried syrup. He and Sarah were at the iHop on East 14th Street, and as much as David wanted to enjoy being with his twin and hear everything about how things were going at her stupid little rich white kid school in Texas, he was still reeling from the realization that he was  _ in love _ with his boyfriend.

His sister laughed. “No shit, it was written all over your face at lunch, every time you looked at him, or when he spoke. It’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable, it’s  _ pathetic _ ,” Davey argued, face still on the table, slightly in the syrup. Blueberry syrup? It smelled like blueberry. “I met him  _ last month _ , and I feel like I would just cease to exist without him. Who the hell gets that attached that fast?”

“I mean I’m not surprised. Everyone gets totally wrecked by their first love. Plus he’s  _ gorgeous _ .”

David sighed. His first love had been in high school, not long after he realized he was gay, and he  _ had _ been wrecked, and that was exactly why he knew his current situation was very bad news. He didn’t want to get into all of that with Sarah, right then. “He is, isn’t he? It’s like that meme where God tries to pour a dash of sexy into a person and spills the whole cup.”

She burst into laughter. “You’re ridiculous, I love it.”

David reluctantly sat up. He unrolled the napkin from around his silverware, dipped the corner in his water, and began cleaning the syrup off his face, grumbling all the while about how he wasn’t ridiculous, Jack’s stupid, beautiful face was ridiculous, and why of all people in the dining hall had Jack Kelly set his sights on  _ him? _

“I guess he’s just got good taste.” Sarah shrugged, smirking.

“You’re only saying that because we’re twins and look alike,” David gestured at her with the napkin, “but our face looks better on you, so shut up.”

“Well yeah, no, duh.” She flipped her hair, and stuck out her tongue.

David chuckled and slumped back in his seat. “Shit, he went for the wrong twin.”

“I don’t think I’m really his type.” She leaned forward across the table, beckoning her brother to lean closer before very loudly whispering. “Y’know I heard he might be—” and she very obviously mouthed ‘gay’, before raising her eyebrows and widening her eyes in mock scandal.

“He’s bi,” David deadpanned.

She blinked. “Shit. Wanna share?”

“ _ No _ .” David threw his straw at her. “He’s mine.”

She laughed, throwing the straw back.

“He’s not really mine, though,” David continued. “Jack is Jack’s. I don’t think he’ll ever be anybody else’s.”  _ Even though I’m completely his, oh my god, what do I do!? _ David put his utmost concentration on cleaning the syrup off the table. “He had this girlfriend who, like, all of his friends know about. I guess it was a big deal.”

“Has he talked about her?”

“Charlie’s mentioned her.”

“Hmm...”

“Hmm?” David tensed up. “Is that bad?”

Sarah shook her head. “I mean, people talk about their exes, especially if it’s someone they were with for a long time. Cause like, it’s kind of hard not to? There’s so many stories and memories that have that person in them, and you’re not gonna just blank those out.” She shrugged. “It is  _ kinda _ weird that his roommate talked about her, and not him.”

David slammed his palms on the table. “Right? Like, what am I supposed to do with that? Does that mean he’s over her? Does that mean he’s not and it’s still too painful for him to talk about?”

“I dunno; you’ll have to ask him.”

David rolled his eyes. “Right. ‘Hey, are you over your ex?’ doesn’t sound crazy or controlling at all.”

“You’re useless I swear to god.” Sarah huffed. “Just say that you’ve heard his friends mention her a few times and you’re curious!”

“But what if he’s  _ not _ over her and he gets upset?”

“What if he  _ is _ over her, and is totally fine?”

“You didn’t hear the way his friends reacted to her name,” David huffed. “They acted like we were walking through a minefield and Jack was the mine. Oh my god, am I a rebound?”

“Dave, bro,” Sarah sighed. “You don’t know if you don’t ask. Though I’ll say, at lunch, he sure didn’t look at you like you’re a rebound.”

David frowned, absentmindedly stirring his water with his straw. “Yeah? What did he look at me like?”

“Well when you knocked your water over he looked at you like you’re a spring loaded disaster—”

David groaned.

“Most of the time though, he looked at you like how Dad looks at Mom.”

David’s jaw dropped. “He—... What?”

“Oh you know.” Sarah waved dismissively, sitting back against the backrest of her half of the booth. “That whole mushy eyes and tiny smile deal.”

“That’s literally impossible.”

She just blinked at him slowly.

“What?” David asked. “No one looks at anyone the way Dad looks at Mom.”

She sighed. “Yeah okay, that’s fair. But this was for sure the same genre.”

David chugged about three quarters of his water in one go, only stopping when he choked on a piece of ice. “Shit.”

Sarah bit her lip, trying to hold back laughter. David glared at her.

“Oh, come on, Dave,” she laughed. “I just told you a good thing! What, are you gonna get mad if I tell you that there are cute puppies in the world?”

“No, I’m gonna get mad at you for suggesting that there’s even the slightest chance Jack feels the same way about me as I do him.” He set down his water glass and stared at it.

“Why?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “Because I don’t want to get hurt.”

She sighed, leaning forward, crossing her arms, and resting her elbows on the table. “I get that, I do, but Dave, come  _ on _ . It’s  _ so _ obvious that he’s crazy about you.”

He could almost believe that, coming from Sarah, and he allowed the tiniest smile onto his face. “Is it really?”

“Oh my god,  _ so _ obvious.” The words were more of an extended groan as she slumped back in her seat again.

“Honestly, Sarah, what did I do?” David asked, smiling for real. “What have I accomplished in this life to earn the attention of the greatest person on the planet?”

“First, rude, I’m right here. Second, you’re my brother, so that gives you tons of bonus points.”

Then, the waitress came by to take their order, distracting them enough for the topic to change to life, school, what they’d each last heard from Les, and more. Growing up, they’d always known every detail of each others’ lives. College made that difficult. David didn’t appreciate it.

“Wait wait wait, they do  _ what _ to you on your birthday?”

“Throw you in the fountain,” Sarah said casually. “Have I never told you that?”

David shook his head.

She snorted. “Ohmygod, wait till I tell you about Halloween.”

David and Sarah had always been two halves of one whole. At least, that’s how David had seen it. Sarah, he realized, was a fully actualized person. He couldn’t help but feel as though she had built an entire new life without him in it, and surprisingly, he was okay with that. He overanalyzed that feeling over mediocre pancakes. He didn’t feel any different. He hadn’t grown into his wings like Sarah had. Losing Sarah, in whatever small way, could have felt like ripping himself in half, but it didn’t.

He loved Sarah, and he always would. She was still his best friend, but maybe she wasn’t his other half, anymore.


	18. Sexy Koalas and Seatbelts with Separation Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Davey get to know each other waaay better, and everything Davey has said or done throughout this whole story suddenly makes sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, like, half a sex scene, then shit hits the fan and it gets real dark. So uh...yeah. Sorry?

It was Monday evening during Spring Break. After work, Jack met Davey at the dining hall to get a late dinner, and afterwards, they retreated to Jack and Crutchie’s apartment. Jack was sitting on the couch, with Davey lying across his lap, propped up on his elbows, happily engrossed in a book. Jack was using Davey’s back as a drawing table, and every time Davey shifted to turn the page, Jack would whine and complain.

“If ya keep movin’ it’s gonna be all squiggly!”

“I’m not moving!”

“You’re moving right now!”

“No,  _ this _ would be moving.” In one fast motion, Davey dropped his book, rolled over, smacked Jack’s sketchbook out of his hand, sat up, and kissed him. Jack’s wail of disapproval was cut off, and turned into more of a muffled, “Mmm”. But Davey’s lips didn’t linger long.

He leaned back, breaking the kiss. “Turning pages is not moving.”

Jack rolled his eyes, grumbling, “Well, ya shoulders move when ya do, so it counts.”

“Fine.” Davey completely extracted himself from Jack’s lap and moved to a nearby chair. “I’ll just read over here, then.”

Jack gasped, faking outrage. “Oh, I see how it is. Sure. Fine.” Grumbling nonsense, he scooted himself back into a corner of the couch and went back to drawing, shooting pouty glares at Davey every minute or so.

Davey was playing. Jack knew that. But he couldn’t manage to shut up the little voice in the back of his head. What if Davey was getting uncomfortable, being around him? After all, he  _ did _ , just a week before, learn that his boyfriend had nearly killed someone. Jack bit his lip as flashes of his violent past clipped through his mind, unbidden. There were so many details that he hadn’t told Davey. None of them were huge, as is the way with details, but each was another tic on the score sheet of Why Jack is a Bad Person.

Davey snickered, when Jack shot him another glare. “Use your words, Jack.”

Jack just stuck his tongue out and went back to sketching.

Davey closed his book and stood up. “What are you drawing, anyway?” He walked around the back of the couch to see.

Jack immediately slammed the sketchbook against his chest, hiding it from view. “Nothin’ what concerns you here.”

Davey stuck his bottom lip out. “Please?”

“What’s in it for me?” He teased.

“It would make me happy.”

Jack groaned, rolling his head and upper body instead of his eyes. He held the sketchbook out towards Davey, who grinned like a Cheshire Cat.

“Thank you, baby.” He accepted the sketchbook, then fell completely silent as he looked over the drawing.

A flush crawled over Jack’s face. He had been sketching Davey, propped up on his elbows, reading his book. It wasn’t quite finished, but there was enough to get the point across.

“You draw me a lot prettier than I actually am,” Davey laughed as he handed the sketchbook back to Jack.

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I can’t even get the half of it.”

Davey wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders and watched him work for a bit, turning his head occasionally to kiss him on the cheek. A small smile crept onto Jack’s face. This was nice—no, this was  _ wonderful _ , this beautiful, beautiful boy. He knew, and he wasn’t running. Granted, that didn’t speak well for his sanity, but beggars can’t be choosers.

After five minutes or so, Davey asked, “Are you done yet?”

Jack laughed. “I can be if you want me to be.”

“Good.” Davey climbed over the back of the couch and flopped over Jack’s lap, again.

Another laugh, and Jack leaned over to put his sketchbook and pencil on the little round table next to the couch. Sitting back up again, he smiled down at Davey in his lap. “So, what did you want?”

“My pillow.”

“Is that all I am to you?” he teased, and he ruffled Davey’s hair.

“Of course not!” Davey assured him. “You’re an excellent blanket, as well.”

Jack pinched him, just below his ribs. He squeaked and smacked Jack’s hand away.

“I hope you understand, Davey, that this means war.” Jack quickly pinched him again, a few inches higher.

Davey lightly, playfully smacked his cheek. “Rude!”

“You started it. I don’t know what you want from me.” He scaled up the assault, delivering pinches with both hands.

“Don’t you d—ah!” Davey broke down into laughter, squirming and kicking until he managed to roll his way off Jack’s lap and onto the floor.

Jack followed him, continuing to poke and pinch and tickle as he very calmly and plainly spoke. “There’s no escaping me, Dave. I’m inevitable.”

“You know we have a bedroom,” Crutchie called from the corner.

Jack actually startled a little, having entirely forgotten that Crutchie was even home, let alone in the room with them. He blushed a little, half from embarrassment that he forgot, and half cause of Crutchie’s suggestion.

“It’s right over there,” Crutchie continued, gesturing widely.

Jack cleared his throat, standing up from where he had been crouched over Davey, who was on his back on the floor, with his legs curled up and arms out in an attempt to block the pinches, still frozen from where the two had stopped as soon as Crutchie spoke.

“I appreciate the tour, Crutchie, but I’m already renting the place, so you don’t gotta go over the layout.”

Crutchie glared. “We’ve got a shower, too, if that’s more your style.”

Jack offered a hand to help Davey up, still looking at Crutchie. “Hey, you’re the one who likes creepin’ in the bathroom, not me.”

Davey retrieved his book from the chair and resumed reading on the couch. His cheeks were the color of tomatoes, but Jack could see he was fighting off a smile. Jack went back to the couch and clicked on the TV, hoping to find something that would get Crutchie distracted so he’d stop teasing, Jack didn’t mind, but he didn’t want anything to happen that might upset Davey. He settled on reruns of Parks & Recreation, and before long, Davey put his book back down and leaned into Jack’s side. Jack easily—almost reflexively—put his arm around Davey’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple.

Jack didn’t particularly pay attention to the TV. He and Crutchie had watched through Parks & Rec at least four times. It wasn’t that he was disinterested or bored—It was a great show, always worth rewatching—he was just finding it increasingly difficult to notice anything other than the incredibly beautiful boy curled up against his side. Every time Davey laughed at whatever had just happened on-screen, Jack couldn’t help but smile. If he shifted around to get more comfortable, Jack was hyper aware of his movement. It didn’t make any sense that someone could be as adorable as Davey Jacobs. For god’s sake, he even  _ smelled _ good. Jack absently brushed his fingers over Davey’s shoulder, wondering why on earth such a perfect creature would want to be with a screw up like him.

“I never actually saw the end of this series,” Davey said as an episode ended. “I meant to finish it, but then I went to college and haven’t had time.”

Jack hummed in acknowledgement. “It’s a good show.”

He had barely heard the words Davey said, as he was much too distracted by the way his mouth moved when he talked, and how clear and kind his voice was. Jack had never particularly noticed the differences in how people talk—other than accent and language—but Davey’s voice sounded a lot better than any other he’d ever heard.

Davey straightened up a little and turned his head to face him. “You’re distracted.”

An easy smile slid onto his face. “No way, I’m paying plenty of attention.”

“What happened in the episode we just watched?”

“It was the one with the doomsday cult, and the annual all-night vigil to hail the arrival of Zorp the Surveyor.” Jack replied smugly.

Davey huffed. “Fine. Why, then, are you staring blankly at the TV between episodes instead of looking at me when I talk to you?”

“Oh, well, ‘cause I’ve been watching the TV this whole time, obviously.”

“Hey.” Davey poked him in the chest.

Jack met his eyes. “Hm?”

“Pay attention to me.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, okay.”

Pulling him close with the arm already around his shoulders, Jack leaned over to gently but firmly kiss him. Shortly, he broke the kiss, only leaning back enough to smile at him.

“Thank you.” Davey smiled back and leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder.

Still smiling, Jack began to gently scratch Davey’s back as he was leaned against him. Davey’s eyes fluttered closed, and he sighed contentedly, leaning into Jack’s touch. Jack dropped a brief kiss onto the top of Davey’s head as he continued scratching his back. In response, Davey tilted his head back to place a kiss where Jack’s neck met his shoulder, snuggling in closer as the next episode started.

Jack’s breath caught for half a second.

Davey giggled mischievously. “You okay, there?”

Jack stopped scratching his back to pinch his side again, sticking his tongue out.

Davey grinned up at him. “Be nice.”

He smirked. “What’s in it for me?”

Davey leaned in like he was going to kiss him, but stopped just short of his lips. “Maybe, you should give it a try and find out.”

“Mm, or I could just do this.” Jack grabbed the front of Davey’s shirt and yanked him forward into a kiss.

“That’s it!” Crutchie slammed the textbook he’d been studying closed with a loud  _ thwap _ , tucked it under his arm like a football, and damn near ran for the front door, despite his limp and cane. “I’m out. Going to Al and Race’s. Have fun use protection please don’t ruin the couch.” He closed the door loudly behind him.

Jack startled, and then burst into laughter, flushing slightly. Davey had already grabbed the nearest pillow and begun suffocating himself with it.

Jack patted his back, still snickering. “It’s fine, he’s just being dramatic.”

Davey muttered something completely unintelligible into the pillow.

“Eh, what was that now?”

Davey peeked over the top of the pillow. “We chased your poor roommate out of his own apartment.” His voice was still muffled.

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, it’s fine. Al and Race got a futon, so it’s never a problem when he crashes. I’m pretty sure he got a toothbrush over there, too.” He wrinkled his nose in a little laugh.

Davey shot him a quizzical look as he returned the pillow to its place in the corner of the couch. “Has...this happened a lot?”

Jack blushed, rubbing the back of his head uncomfortably. “Uh, I guess?”

Jack could feel Davey tense up, just from the way the couch cushions shifted beneath them.

Davey looked away. “With Katherine?”

Jack swallowed, also looking away. “Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” Davey said quietly. “No. No, it doesn’t.”

Jack sighed, dragging his hand through his hair. “I—” another sigh. “If you want to know who, or how many, or whatever—”

“No.” Davey shook his head. “I really don’t. It was stupid of me to ask. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, look.” Jack took one of Davey’s hands in his. “If you wanna know, I’ll tell ya. But I promise you, none a’ that has anything to do with this.” He gestured between the two of them.

Davey relaxed. “I know.”

He squeezed his hand reassuringly, staying quiet and just looking at him carefully.

Davey shifted and blushed. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he chuckled nervously.

Jack sighed, looking away. “I just don’t wanna do anything to mess this up.”

Davey scooted back towards him on the couch. “You haven’t even done anything. I just...” He looked down at their joined hands for a moment, then looked back up. “I don’t know why I asked. It’s not a big deal. I don’t care...who you’ve, uh...” He trailed off.

“You sure?”

He hesitated before nodding. “It’s not my business.”

Jack rubbed his thumb over the back of Davey’s hand. “Hon, if you want to know, I’ll tell you. It don’t really matter to me.”

Davey narrowed his eyes. “I’m starting to think you  _ want _ to tell me.”

Jack laughed. “I don't  _ want _ to, no.” He shrugged. “You just seem bothered...”

“I’m not,” Davey insisted, clearly willing to die on that hill. “I’m serious. It’s not my business. I don’t want to know.” He clasped Jack’s hand between both of his and stared at them.

Jack smiled gently, reaching out with his other hand to brush the backs of his fingers lovingly across his cheek. “Okay,”

Davey caught Jack’s hand and held it against his face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but moved Jack’s hand to his mouth and kissed it instead. Jack’s smile spread a little wider.

“I lo—” Jack caught himself, erupting into a rather fake coughing fit to drown out the end of the word.

“Are you alright?” Davey reached forward to pat his back.

Jack coughed a few more times, and caught his breath. “Yeh, yeh, I’m fine, just got somethin’ caught in my throat.”

That ‘somethin’ being how much he already loved him didn’t really need mentioning.

Davey’s hand on his back turned into Davey’s arm around his shoulders, when he sat back up. They looked at each other, and they were really close together, and it was becoming more and more noticeable by the second that they were completely alone in the apartment. It wasn’t the first time, but it felt different—decidedly less relaxed, like they were walking on a tightrope.

Jack glanced down at their still connected hands and cleared his throat. “So uh...”

“Do you...want to keep watching the show?” Davey asked.

“Do you?”

“...Sure.” He didn’t sound very sure.

They turned into the episode halfway through. Rather, Davey did. Jack had an even harder time focusing on the show than before.

A few minutes later, Davey looked over. “I still feel bad for scaring Charlie off.”

Jack chuckled, tucked against Davey’s side, playing with his hand. “He’s fine.”

“He left for no reason.”

A mischievous smile slid onto Jack’s face. “Huh...guess we’d better do something about that.”

Davey looked at Jack approximately how a small deer looks at a rapidly approaching semi. “Like what?”

Jack laughed, sitting up and turning sideways on the couch so he was facing Davey. He let go of his hand as he moved both of his up to cup Davey’s face, and moved one of his fingers in an almost beckoning motion, stroking along his jawline as he leaned in to kiss him. Davey shivered when Jack’s lips met his. His hands landed on Jack’s sides as he let himself be pulled into the kiss.

Jack slid his hands back and down, thumbs dragging across his jaw as he settled with one hand gently on either side of his neck, fingers not quite laced together in the back. His lips moved slowly, intentionally, firmly. Davey responded in kind, curling his hands into fists in Jack’s shirt and turning so they were face to face, with his legs tossed over Jack’s lap.

Opening his mouth a little wider, Jack trailed his tongue lightly over Davey’s bottom lip, and Davey parted his lips slightly, letting Jack have his way with his mouth. Davey tasted like toothpaste and coffee with an amount of cream and sugar than can only be accurately described as ‘super gay’.

Jack slipped his hands down Davey’s back and around to his hips, tangling his fingers in the hem of his shirt. Davey broke away from the kiss, practically gasping for air. He wrapped his legs around Jack’s waist (not unlike a sexy koala) and attached his lips to the pulse point on his neck. One hand wandered up to grab at the back of Jack’s hair. Jack gasped at the sudden contact, honestly a little surprised as Davey took initiative.

“C’mere.” One hand gripped the waist of Davey’s jeans, and Jack pulled him up so he straddled his lap. His other hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, and he dragged his fingers along his side. Davey moaned almost inaudibly, but Jack could feel the vibration where Davey’s mouth connected with his skin. Every muscle in his body was spring loaded, ready to pin Davey to the couch and do all manner of unspeakable things to him, but he couldn’t do that. Not to Davey Jacobs. Not to the person he loved—holy God, he loved him, and he loved this, and he needed Davey to love it, too.

Jack slid his arm around Davey’s waist, holding him tightly against him as he moved his other hand up to tangle in Davey’s hair, tilting his own head back slightly to allow Davey easier access to his neck, letting him do as he pleased.

Davey kissed his neck, his jaw, his cheek, and finally captured his lips again. Jack met him enthusiastically, hanging onto him as if he were a lifeline, and he was drowning. He wanted this, he wanted  _ more _ , but he was determined to let Davey set the pace. This had to be good for him, this had to be what he wanted.

All of a sudden, Davey released his hold on Jack. Then, his hands were under his shirt, caressing the skin above his hips. Inhaling sharply, Jack leaned back a tiny bit, reaching behind himself to grab the back of his shirt and pull it off over his head.

Davey whimpered. “Holy hell, you’re gorgeous, Jacky.”

Jack laughed outright. “You’re one to talk.”

“Shut up.”

His eyebrows darted briefly upwards. “Make me.”

Davey groaned. “I’ll make fun of you for being so unoriginal when I have the brain power.”

“Mhm, sure, cut the talk, c’mon.” Jack beckoned with his fingers as he placed a palm against the small of Davey’s back and pressed him closer again.

Davey raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Make me?”

Jack chuckled low in his throat. “Oh, sweetheart, you do not want to ask me to do that.” He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Davey hummed. “Yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

“Mm.” Jack gripped the backs of David’s thighs, and in one swift motion had turned, slamming him onto his back on the couch. Jack now had one foot on the floor, and one arm braced on the back of the couch, propping him up over Davey. His other knee was planted on the couch, between his legs, and his free hand was pressed gently, but firmly, on his chest.

Davey stared up at him, all red lips, red cheeks, messy hair, and wrinkled clothes. Jack could barely see the blue in his wide, startled eyes anymore. He looked entirely ruffled and entirely beautiful. Jack exhaled slowly, just looking at him. Jack frequently found it hard to believe that Davey was real, that  _ they _ were real, and now more so than ever. To be so close to this wonderful boy, to be allowed to adore him. He’d finally found something right, and damned if he was gonna let it go. And if that wasn’t enough, Davey was looking at him much the same way. Jack didn’t think he could ever get used to anyone, much less the  _ angel _ right in front of him, looking at him like he was a work of art.

Davey reached up to Jack’s face, just barely brushing his fingers over his cheek and his thumb over his bottom lip. “Jack,” he whispered so quietly, Jack read his lips more than anything.

Jack practically melted, dropping down so he was half lying on Davey, propped up on a forearm next to his head. He pressed his mouth to his, not knowing how else he could possibly get him to understand how he felt—short of telling him he loved him, of course, but that would be crazy. Davey shifted underneath him, moving his hands around Jack’s body like he didn’t know what to do with them again.

Jack began to move, trailing featherlight kisses across Davey’s jaw, and down, settling in the crook of his neck, just above his shoulder. Davey sighed, running his fingers through Jack’s hair and turning his head to allow him better access. Jack dropped gentle kisses across the top of David’s shoulder before lightly swiping his tongue across his collar bone.

Davey flinched, pulling Jack’s hair a little bit. He hissed, “Shit, sorry.”

Jack groaned, head tilted back slightly. He took a heavy breath, smiling crookedly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Davey very deliberately removed his hand from Jack’s hair and placed both of his hands on Jack’s shoulders instead.

Jack’s smile faltered, and he pulled back a little. “You alright? ‘S that not okay, or—“

Davey nodded. “It’s fine.”

Jack smiled. Oh so gently, he plucked one of Davey’s hands off his shoulder, and slowly pressed it into the cushion above his head, leaning down to kiss him deeply as he did so. After a beat, Jack’s other hand moved to Davey’s chest and slowly popped the top button of his shirt open. Davey closed his eyes and gripped the hand that pinned his above his head, breathing artificially evenly as Jack began to undress him. Once he had undone a few buttons, Jack reached up to pull the collar of Davey’s shirt aside, and ducked his head down, pressing hard kisses against his collarbone as he continued unbuttoning his shirt. Davey’s breathing sped up. He gripped the edge of the couch with his free hand. Once his shirt was fully unbuttoned, Jack began trailing kisses down his chest, moving both hands to explore the newly exposed skin.

After a moment Jack frowned, straightening up to look at Davey’s face. “You alright, baby? You’re really tense...”

Davey’s eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling. “I— I don’t know.”

Jack immediately sat back on his heels. “Whoa, whoa, what’s wrong?” He asked, full of concern. Had he done something wrong? Was it in this incredibly inopportune moment that Davey had finally realized how crazy he was for being with Jack?

Davey closed his eyes and shook his head once. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Unsure, Jack shifted closer again. “Do you...want to keep going?”

Davey paused for way too long. “N—no?” He looked at Jack, and fuck, he looked terrified. “Can I say no? Is that okay?”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “Wh—oh my god— of course you can say no!?” He quickly backed off, almost scrambling to put distance between them. He had no idea what he’d done to make Davey afraid, but he would rather cut his own leg off than do it again.

Davey sat up and backed himself into the corner of the couch. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Jack shook his head quickly, starting to reach for him but he stopped short. “No no no no no,” his voice was soft, but tinged with almost panicked concern. “You didn’t do anything, you don’t need to be sorry.  _ I’m _ sorry.”

Davey looked up at him and frowned. “Why?”

“Wh—” He gestured at him, sputtering. “Look at you! I dunno what I did but clearly it was somethin’ bad! Davey, baby, I’m so sorry, you shoulda said somethin’ sooner.”

“I know,” Davey grumbled, picking at the hem of his sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

Jack momentarily dropped his face into his hands, groaning. “No, I— shit.” He looked up at him helplessly, mortified. “Did you not want...?”

Davey sat forward, towards Jack. “No, I did. I do. I don’t know—” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I really care about you. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on, or—”

Jack was shaking his head again. “It’s okay, stop, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Davey blinked, and Jack couldn’t help but think he looked very young and lost, in that moment. “You’re not mad?”

“Wh—?” It was more of a rapid exhale than a word. He was baffled, and horrified, and kind of scared. “No! No of course not!” Jack crawled a little ways across the couch towards him, but quickly shifted back again, caught between desperation to go to him, to hold him, to comfort him, and fear of scaring him, of hurting him, of touching him.

Davey lowered his eyebrows and opened his mouth slightly, the textbook picture of confusion. He looked at Jack, then looked away, then something like defeat stained his features. He let out a heavy breath. “God, you’re too good for me.”

Jack was near tears. “Davey what are you talking about?” His voice broke a little. “What did I  _ do? _ ”

“You didn’t do anything,” Davey said, sounding annoyed. “You’re perfect and wonderful and the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask for, and I’m a hot  _ fucking _ mess.” He pulled his knees into his chest.

Jack slid off the couch to the floor, crawling forward on his knees till he was in front of him, the height and width of the couch providing distance. His voice was quiet and gentle as he spoke. “Davey...”

Davey looked down at him. His pretty face had just gone blank.

“Talk to me...”

Davey rolled his eyes and huffed. “It’s stupid, Jack. I’m being stupid.”

Jack shook his head. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

Davey rolled his eyes again. He placed his feet back on the floor. “I promise you, whatever you’re thinking is way worse than what happened.”

“Then tell me what it is.” He practically begged.

Davey looked at him, seemed to consider his desperation, and relented. “There were these two guys when I was fifteen. The first one was a friend of mine. I loved him. We had a thing going.” He chuckled bitterly. “He wanted to sleep together and I didn’t, so he called me a tease and never spoke to me again.”

Jack nodded, staying quiet, watching him.

Davey waited for a moment, then sighed. He’d obviously been hoping Jack would drop it after the first one. “The second one,” he cringed and looked at the floor, “was my history teacher.”

“Oh...” Jack blinked, not quite sure what to make of that. “What happened?”

Davey groaned and flopped against the back of the couch. “I told you, it was stupid. I knew better and I shouldn’t have done it and I regret it, but I guess, after my friend, I didn’t feel like I could say no.” He was looking anywhere but at Jack. “I  _ know _ I screwed up.”

“Davey...”

Davey said nothing, just closed his eyes tight and faced up towards the ceiling.

“I’m so sorry, that shouldn’t’a happened to you.” Jack’s heart ached for the boy in front of him. Beautiful, kind, gentle Davey Jacobs. To think someone had taken advantage of that, of him, filled Jack with a suffocating mix of anger and sorrow. Davey was supposed to be from this perfect little world, with his family he loved so much, and his books, and his nice house on a nice street. That’s what he deserved. Jack started to reach for him but stopped himself again.

Davey face fell when he saw Jack’s halted movement. He looked away. “My own damn fault.”

Jack shook his head. “It isn’t. You say whatever you want, but it isn’t.”

“How?” Davey snapped, turning on Jack with a mixture of anger and desperation. “Please, tell me how it’s not my fault that I willingly slept with a man who was twice my age for the better part of a year. We stopped because I moved upstate. He had a  _ wife _ .”

Jack opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he couldn’t find anything to say. Eventually he settled on a tight, pained, “I’m sorry...”

Davey shook his head. “ _ I’m _ sorry.”

Jack bit his lip. He was aching to help him. To hold him. To bring him any small bit of comfort. But he was afraid to touch him. It seemed pretty clear that he didn’t want to be touched. So he settled for staying on the floor at the foot of the couch, within reach, if Davey wanted him.

Davey glanced at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

Jack gaped at him for a second. “What? No! Why would I—?” He shook his head firmly. “I don’t want you to leave, Dave. I don’t ever want you to leave. But if  _ you _ want to, that’s okay.”

A sad smile crossed Davey’s face. “Thanks.” He paused, then, “I spent a long time believing I was only good for one thing, and I guess old habits die hard.”

Jack stood up. “Hey, Dave?” His voice had gotten a lot harder.

Davey looked up at him. “What?”

“Is it alright if I touch you?”

Another pause. “...I thought you didn’t want to.”

A short, bitter laugh, and Jack shook his head. He stayed standing at the foot of the couch, almost shaking, waiting for an answer.

“Of course, you can touch me.”

Jack surged forward, crashing to the couch next to him and wrapping his arms around him. He pulled Davey into his lap, and held him so tight it almost hurt. One arm wrapped around his waist, and the other up over his back to grip his shoulder—sort of like a seatbelt with separation anxiety—

All of the tension flooded out of Davey’s body. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders and melted into him. Jack didn’t say anything, just held him as tight as he could, praying that Davey would understand how he felt. How he wanted to help, how everything was going to be okay, and if it wasn’t, he would  _ make _ it okay.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Davey murmured into his shoulder.

“Well, Dave, from what I know you’re as good as it gets, people-wise, but someone had to get saddled with the worst guy in New York, so I guess you’re just unlucky.”

“Stop that.” Davey sat back so he could look at Jack. “I mean it.”

Jack smiled softly. “I ain’t never gonna stop tellin’ you you’re perfect, Davey.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Jack had his hands clasped at the small of Davey’s back, keeping him in his lap, but giving him room to move as he pleased. “Can I kiss you?”

Davey grinned. “I don’t know; can you?”

His smile twisted up in one corner of his mouth. “Probably.  _ May _ I kiss you?” he teased.

“Please.”

Gently, Jack pulled him closer, arms still locked around his waist. He took a moment, just looking at him. At first he couldn’t believe how fast he’d fallen in love with this beautiful boy in his lap. But now, looking into his eyes, he was amazed that there had ever been a time when he wasn’t.


	19. Newsies Against Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family dinner night with the guys takes a bizarre turn when Albert makes an unsavory remark about Davey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feat. my sister as Crutchie for the first time, due to how much he interacts with Davey in this chapter.
> 
> We've written so far ahead, y'all.

Spring Break bored David out of his mind. He regretted not going to visit his family. Jack still had to work, so it’s not like he could just cling to him to while away the hours. He even started to miss his jerk roommates, who had taken off to California the moment classes got out the previous Friday. By Thursday, David was downright stir crazy.

At about one-thirty, his phone buzzed. Like a zombie, he paused Dr. Who on Netflix on his laptop and turned his glazed-over eyes onto the new message. He saw Jack’s name at the top of the message preview. “ _ Hey baby, sorry, just… _ ”

He smiled. Jack fucking Kelly. That man was ruining him for anyone else ever. He opened the message. 

“ _ Hey baby, sorry, just got out of work. How’s your day going? _ “

Yep, Davey was definitely ruined. “ _ Boring. How’s yours? _ ”

“ _ I managed to grill my elbow instead of a burger, but it’s all good _ .“

“ _ Sounds delicious _ .“

“ _ Calm down babe, it’s just an elbow. Speaking of delicious, what are you wearing? _ ” Another message immediately. “ _ No I’m kidding don’t hate me. _ “ And another. “ _ Actually speaking of delicious though, what are you doing tonight? _ ”

Davey laughed and shook his head. “ _ I’m wearing the sweater vest you hate, and tonight, I’ll probably still be watching Dr. Who _ .“

“ _ Hey who says I hate the sweater vest? _ ”

“ _ No one has to _ .“

“ _ How would you feel about an alternative to Dr. Who? _ “

“ _ If it’s Supernatural, absolutely not. That got bad years ago _ .“

“ _ No, much more entertaining, guess again _ .”

Davey groaned. Whatever Jack was about to suggest, it sounded very suspicious. “ _ What? _ ”

“ _ It’s family dinner night. _ “

David stared at his phone, waiting for that to make sense. As far as he knew, Jack didn’t have any family, besides Charlie. Was Jack just inviting him over for dinner? He had a feeling that was not the case. “ _ Why do I have a feeling ‘family dinner night’ is not as simple as a normal meal with you and Charlie? _ “

“ _ Once a month me and Crutchie make dinner for all the guys. I was planning to anyway, but Crutchie asked me to invite you. _ ”

“ _ Where would we be without Crutchie? _ ”

“ _ I dunno, maybe I’d be stuck with some other dumbass from the dining hall _ .“

“ _ Damn. First I’m a dumb fuck, now I’m a dumbass _ .“

“ _ No no, the  _ other _ guy from the dining hall is the dumbass. You’re a smartass _ .“

“ _ Nice save _ .”

David considered the offer. After the bucket-of-cold-water incident, he wasn’t entirely convinced Jack’s friends liked him. 

Another text from Jack pinged onto his screen. “ _ The fellas are coming over at 4:00. Crutchie’s making chili, I tried to help, but he chased me out of the kitchen. He said I can do the cornbread though, so there’s that. _ ”

“ _ Good to know. I’ll avoid the cornbread _ .“

“ _ Rude! _ ”

David sent him a heart emoji.

“ _ You’re lucky you’re cute _ .” Another message followed immediately. “ _ Strike that,  _ I’m _ lucky you’re cute _ .“

“ _ I’ll be there at 4, dork _ .”

* * *

In an act of pure defiance, Davey wore the sweater vest to family dinner night.

Even if he hadn’t known which apartment was Jack and Charlie’s, the noise would have tipped him off. He knocked on the door, and there was no answer. He knocked again, and still no answer. He  _ knew _ they were home, and from the sound of it, most of ‘the guys’ were already there. He tried the handle, found it unlocked, and let himself in.

The instant he opened the door, he was hit with a wall of sound. Seventeen was a lot of people to jam into this little, one-bedroom apartment. There were five boys crushed against each other on the couch. Two of them— Ike and Blink—were playing a very aggressive game of multiplayer Tetris, as the other three screamed their support. Smalls was sitting on the back of the couch, facing into the kitchen, participating in a conversation that was at least ten feet away from him. The bedroom door was open, and clearly there were at least seven of them in there, yelling about something entirely indistinguishable in the cacophony. Inconveniently, Jack and Charlie were nowhere to be seen. Davey closed the door softly behind him.

Race looked over, then turned towards the bedroom door. “Ey, Jack! Your boyfriend’s here!”

There was a loud crash from the bedroom, and a collective exclamation of concern, amusement, surprise, or maybe all three. After a few seconds Jack appeared in the doorframe, and grinned as soon as his eyes locked on Davey.

David mirrored his expression and waved, perhaps a little awkwardly.

Jack laughed, crossing the room to greet him. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey.” Davey reached out and grabbed his hand. The atmosphere was a little overwhelming, and he needed the contact.

Jack closed his fingers around Davey’s, pulling his hand up gently to place a brief kiss on the back of his wrist. “You need a drink or anything?”

“I’m okay for now, thanks.”

He nodded. “You can get a shirt from the dresser, if you want. Y’know,” he plucked nonchalantly at the shoulder of Davey’s sweater vest, “since you got something gross on yours.”

David put on his sweetest smile. “Don’t worry.” He brushed Jack’s hand off his shoulder. “It rubs right off.”

Jack’s eyebrows darted up briefly. “Oh, does it now?” he teased, tugging almost imperceptibly at the hem of the vest, and tossing a little wink to him.

David rolled his eyes.

“Sniper brought Cards Against Humanity!” Specs called across the room. “Who’s in?”

There was a chorus of ‘Eyy!’s from around the room, and the majority of the boys—save for the five still deeply engrossed in Tetris, and Crutchie, who was still cooking—crowded around the small kitchen table. Sniper and Specs handed out cards.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Sniper spoke up, taking a black card from the stack in the middle. He cleared his throat dramatically. “During sex, I can always think about ‘blank’.”

There was deliberating, and groaning, and giggling as the boys picked their cards and lay them face down in the middle. Specs shuffled the cards around before pushing the pile towards Sniper, who grabbed a card and read aloud.

“During sex, I can always think about all-ages furry conventions.”

A barrage of groaning laughter, and he pulled the next card.

“During sex, I can always think about Batman. Jack played that, didn’t he?”

Jack kept his face very carefully neutral, and shrugged.

Sniper pulled the next card. “During sex, I ca— Okay, who the hell played ‘Auschwitz’?”

There were shouts, and everyone within reach smacked Albert, who protested loudly.

Shaking his head, Sniper continued. “During sex I can always think about bees?”

Henry snorted and dissolved into giggles.

“That one’s Henry’s okay. During sex I can always think about...” Sniper sighed heavily. “Daniel Radcliffe’s delicious asshole.”

There was a collective groan.

Sniper read the next card. “During sex I can always think about a...snapping turtle...biting the tip of your penis...I can always think about the black half of Barack Obama. I can always think about the  _ white _ half of Barack Obama.”

Everyone cheered.

A sadistic smile spread across Sniper’s face. “Oh, this is one of our custom cards. During sex, I can always think about Jack Kelly sodomizing himself with a paintbrush while watching Bob Ross videos.”

There was a moment of silence, with Race giggling cryptically, and then the enter apartment was screaming. Laughter, disgust, indignation.

“Why do we still have those cards!?” Crutchie wailed in agony from the kitchen.

“Race always hides them when we put the game away!” Jojo accused.

“I do not!” Race cried indignantly.

“You so do!”

Sniper shouted over the noise. “During sex, I can always think about the Jews.” He smirked. “I change my mind.  _ That one  _ was Jack.”

Jack rolled his eyes heavily.

Sniper read through the rest of the cards quickly, ending on, “During sex, I can always think about jacking off into a pool of children’s tears.” He sighed. “Alright, Auschwitz wins, because I want to know who played it.”

David meekly raised his hand.

There was stunned silence, and then the apartment was screaming again. This time in surprised delight, and maybe some pride. Finch and Mush attempted to pick David up on their shoulders, and it did not even slightly work. He ended up falling on Albert, who somehow managed to catch him, while Jack frantically tried to get ahold of him, and Crutchie screamed, “Stop it! He doesn’t need another concussion!”

There were a few mutters of ‘what concussion?’, as the commotion over Dave’s victory and then fall quieted down.

Albert snickered, hand still on Davey’s arm from when he caught him. “A concussion? Jesus, Jack. Katherine always told us you fucked rough, but I didn’t think it was  _ that _ bad.”

Silence.

Jack leveled a look at Albert that could’ve stopped a charging bull in its tracks.

David pulled his arm away from Albert and backed up directly into Finch, who put a hand on his shoulder in a manner that felt both instinctive and protective.

Albert was smirking viciously, eyes locked with Jack’s. He very deliberately turned his glance to David, and raked him shortly up and down, before turning back to Jack. He licked his lips, and the smirk spread wider. “You should be more careful with your toys.”

There was a flash of movement as Jack charged past David, and in an instant Albert was on the floor with Jack on top of him. Jack had crashed into him, driving his shoulder hard into his chest, and the two slammed into the floor, Albert flat on his back. Jack was on one knee, straddled over Albert’s midsection, with his foot placed solidly on one of his arms.

David couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His mind went blank. God they were just  _ words _ . Hurtful, a little bit concerning, but still just words—not worth hurting a friend over.

“Jack!” he yelled, lunging forward. Approximately six hands stopped him from going far.

Jack either hadn’t heard, or didn’t care. He got a fistful of the collar of Albert’s shirt, and pulled his upper body off the floor, as far as his pinned arm would allow. He pulled his opposite arm back, and cracked his closed fist into Albert’s face, driving him into the ground again. Albert gave a shout of pain, and jerked a knee up, slamming it into Jack’s lower back, at the same time as he thrust his hips upward, providing momentum so the strike caused Jack to fall forward, and to the side, off of Albert.

At that point, David couldn’t even tell who lunged at who, and it was just a tangle of fists and legs. By this time, all of the boys had started shouting, but not a single one would take even a step towards the brawl.

“ _ Jack! _ ” David tried again, a little louder and more frantic.

There was a sharp yelp of pain, and they stopped moving. Still on his knees, Albert was holding very carefully still, breathing heavily, with his back arched and face twisted up in pain. Jack was halfway to his feet. He had a grip on Albert’s wrist and slightly further up his arm, and he was holding it, twisted and pushed upwards at an unnatural angle. It was pretty clear that if he moved much further, he would break Albert’s shoulder. Jack glanced up, slightly panting, and made quick eye contact with David. He dropped Albert’s arm and stood the rest of the way up. Albert hissed in relief, gripping his shoulder briefly and rolling it around. Looking back at Albert, Jack offered a hand to help him up, and he took it, glaring at him. Jack firmly patted his—other—shoulder once as he stepped past him, walking towards David.

David just gaped, unable to fully process what exactly was happening. “What the fuck?”

Jack had moved to his side, clapping Finch on the shoulder and resting his hand there. He looked at Dave, still breathing heavy. “You alright?”

“No. What the fuck?”

Behind Jack, Albert spat blood. Crutchie groaned, “Nooo, not on my floor...”

“Yeah, Jack, what the fuck?” Albert asked, wiping his mouth and completely ignoring Crutchie.

Jack shot a glare at Albert. “Get fucked, Al.”

Albert grumbled something as Race came over with a handful of tissues. Jack ignored him, turning back to David, who gestured indignantly at Albert and his bloody mouth. “You just— You—”

Jack wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Decked him, yeah.”

The group had already begun to disperse around them. Surprisingly few of them paid any attention to Albert—and by surprisingly few, I mean just Race.

Jack was looking at Dave with a confused frown on his face. “He asked for it.”

“Asked for it?” David shoved his way around Jack and over to Albert. “Hey, are you okay?”

Albert looked up at him, surprised. “Wh— all things considered, yeah.”

“Shit happens all the time,” Kid Blink called over. “You get used to it.”

David was so lost.

Crutchie walked over, a slightly bloody dish rag in his hand. “Hey Dave, can I talk to you a second?” He nodded his head towards the bedroom.

David nodded, wondering if the nausea was from the blood or the confusion. He followed Crutchie to the bedroom. Jack gestured at them with indignant confusion as they crossed the room, and Crutchie frowned at him, making a ‘shh’ face and holding out a finger as if to stop him.

As soon as the door closed behind them, David was pacing. “Do I look as shaken up as I am? What the fuck  _ was _ that?”

“Hey hey hey, hang on.” Crutchie’s voice was gentle, and he held his hands out in a ‘stopping’ motion. He crossed to the dresser, tossing the dish rag in a laundry hamper next to it. “Blink wasn’t lying, this is...kinda normal. Though usually Jack’s the one breaking up the fight, not the one who started it...”

“Is that supposed to be comforting!?” Davey laughed breathlessly. “Jack just attacked one of his  _ friends _ .”

Crutchie rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “He did, that’s true. But think about the way he grew up. Where he was.” He shrugged. “That’s what we  _ did _ , that’s how things got settled, and it was worse for Jack, with him goin’ to juvie and all.” He cringed, leaning against the dresser. “Ya gotta understand, though. The fighting is regular, sure, but now, with us, it’s rare for Jack to be involved, except for stopping it. Jack Kelly is one tough nut, it’s real hard to make him mad, but when he’s mad...” Crutchie widened his eyes, indicating the ‘not good’-ness of Jack being mad. “Mosta the time, he’s a real rock, nothin’ gets to him. But there’s some things that he just...” He shrugged again.

“And everyone’s just okay with it?” Davey shook his head in disbelief. “He looked like he was really going to hurt him. And I understand that maybe he had to, growing up, but—”

Crutchie frowned, shaking his head in disagreement. “Nah, Jack knows what he’s doin’. They all do. No one ever gets proper hurt.”

David sputtered. “Albert’s bleeding from his mouth!”

Crutchie smiled sadly. “That ain’t proper hurt, for us.”

“Well,  _ clearly _ I’m not one of you.” David didn’t realize how sad that made him, until he said it. He liked them, but he had entered this story already in progress, and he felt like a fish out of water.

Crutchie shook his head. “No. You’re just new. You wouldn’t be here right now if you weren’t one of us. Family dinner night is for family only.” He said firmly.

David didn’t feel like that at all. He nodded anyway.

Crutchie smiled at him sympathetically. “I know it doesn’t feel like it. The guys are a lot, and it’s always rough gettin’ into a group that’s already real tight. But we  _ do _ want you here. It ain’t just Jack.”

David smiled, relaxing only slightly. “Thanks, Crutchie.”

He nodded. “Of course, you’re my kid now...or my dad...? I dunno it depends on what bit we’re doing.

“I’m not sure what that means,” David laughed.

“Okay so y’know how Jack adopted me as his dependent?”

“Oh.” Was Crutchie implying that David and Jack were going to get married? Because it sounded like Crutchie was implying that David and Jack were going to get married. “Right.”

“So that makes Jack dad, sometimes, and since you two are dating, that would make you stepdad.  _ However _ , with the guys, he’s dad, and I’m mom, and all other relationships don’t count. Since you’re part of the family now, that brings my total child count to fifteen.”

David nodded. “Okay, I follow, I think.”

Crutchie pushed off from the dresser limping towards him, as he’d left his cane in the kitchen. Once he got close, he put a hand up by his mouth and whispered. “We adopted, but don’t tell the kids that, they don’t know.” He sighed tragically. “My frail body just couldn’t hold up to child birth.”

There were three loud knocks on the door, and it opened before either of them could answer. Kid Blink poked his head in. “Would you two hurry up before Jack has an aneurysm or something?”

Crutchie sighed, and looked at David. “You want me to send him in?”

David shrugged and nodded. Crutchie clapped him on the back encouragingly, and headed out of the room, shooing Kid Blink ahead of him, and shutting the door. Barely a second later there was a quiet knock.

David took a deep breath. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, and Jack stepped tentatively into the room. David watched expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

“I uh...I’m sorry.” And he really looked it.

David immediately wanted to forgive him and move on and pretend nothing had ever happened, but he refused. He had known Jack had a history of violence. Jack told him that. Seeing it was something else entirely. He didn’t think he could afford to let that go.

“Do you want me to be polite or honest?”

Jack bit his lip and nodded sharply, looking a lot like a puppy that just got kicked. “Always honest.”

“That was scary,” David told him.

He nodded again, this time slower. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry. I don’t know if it’s okay or not.” David didn’t like this. He really didn’t like this. He didn’t want to argue with Jack. In his heart, he knew Jack would never hurt him. Jack had proven that, hadn’t he? Still, evidence to the contrary. Sarah would have called this ‘cognitive dissonance.’ She probably would have had all the answers too.

David sighed. “You know I have to worry about this, right?”

Hurt flashed across Jack’s face, and shock. “Y—...you don’t think—” He took half a step forward. “Dave, I would  _ never _ —”

“But why not? If any of them,” he gestured towards the door, “why  _ not _ me? I believe you, Jack. I don’t think you’d hurt me, but I sure as hell didn’t expect you to beat the shit out of one of your friends on the living room floor, either.”

“I—...” He let out a shaky, pained laugh. “I don’t have a ‘why not you’, cause you don’t even exist in that world. With the anger, and the blood, and the hurt, you’re not there!” He dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it all on end and tufted out. “I know we’re rough—like, really rough—but that’s just how we are. We don’t  _ hurt _ each other.” Another laugh, this one sharper, more helpless. “Hell, Albert’s done worse than that to me.” He jerked his thumb towards the door, indicating the fight as ‘that’.

The truth was, David stopped truly listening after ‘you don’t even exist in that world.’ He heard the rest of the words, but they didn’t process. “Right,” he mumbled, just wanting to get out of this conversation and move on.

“I—” Jack dropped the rest of the word off in a weak exhale. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Davey.”

“Me either,” David admitted, “but now is probably not the best time to figure it out. I don’t want to make more of a scene than I already have.”

“It’s always a scene with the guys. We  _ are _ a scene. I’m not saying we gotta talk now, I’m just saying you don’t gotta be self conscious.”

“I’m fine.” Davey walked past Jack towards the door. He was also not fine, but he didn’t really know what he was. 

Jack opened his mouth to say something, starting to reach out to him, but he dropped his arm when Dave walked past, and just looked down. A pang of guilt hit David in the chest. He tried to ignore it as he returned to the living room, deciding instantly to join the next game of multiplayer Tetris to occupy himself, Cards Against Humanity having been forgotten after...the incident.

Albert seemed okay, other than some noticeable bruising. He stood in the corner, pestering Race as Race tried to do something on his phone. A minute or so later, Jack returned to the main room, and walked into the kitchen. Crutchie was standing at the stove, stirring an enormous pot of chili, and Jack hopped up so he was sitting on the counter, leaning forward with his hands gripping the lip of the counter. The two started talking, but David couldn’t hear the words. Mush, who was also standing, watching Tetris, gently nudged David with his elbow. “Hey, you alright?”

David jumped half a mile. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Y’know it really  _ is _ okay. It’s fucked up, sure, but that’s how we like it.” He shrugged. “Watch, by dessert, Jack and Al will be best buds again.”

“Yeah...” David wasn’t sure if that was better or worse, that it was so incredibly normal to them.

“Though if it's just Jack specifically that’s bothering you, you don’t have to worry much there, either. Last time he threw down was...” Mush whistled, indicating it was a long time ago, and he was trying to remember. “I dunno maybe August, so like, a long ass time.”

David frowned. “That was seven months ago.”

He nodded. “Right.”

David did not think that was a long ass time.

“I mean he’s technically  _ in _ almost all of the fights, cause he’s the one that’ll jump in and get ‘em off each other. But that’s not him fighting.”

“I— I get it, Mush.”

Mush shrugged. “Sorry. Just tryna help.”

“Dinner’s ready!” Crutchie called from the kitchen, and in an instant, all else was forgotten. They piled as many around the table as possible, which was six, with two seats left open for Jack and Crutchie. Five sat on the counter, and four just went for the floor. Crutchie handed out bowls of chili, Jack following with a little plate of cornbread.

“Now, this isn’t my usual chili recipe.” Crutchie explained, passing a bowl to Smalls. “I found a new one, cause mine ain’t kosher. I tried a bit while it was simmering, and I think it’s pretty good.”

“Kosher?” Finch asked.

Crutchie nodded in David direction. “Yeah. Dave’s kosher.”

“Nah, ya can’t conjugate it that way, it’s not like vegetarian,” Jack said, shaking his head.

“Crutchie,” David said, getting emotional over chili, “you didn’t have to change your whole recipe for me.”

Crutchie frowned, amused. “Hey Dave, wanna come to dinner? You can watch us eat. Maybe get yourself a bowl of cereal or a cheese sandwich.”

There was a small uproar of laughter from the ensemble, and David blushed, sufficiently chastised.

“You’re adorable, now shut up and eat your special chili,” Crutchie deadpanned, handing out the last bowl and going to sit at the table.

These people were too good for David. “It’s really good chili.”

Crutchie beamed, and it was like an actual miniature sun had suddenly popped up in the room. “Thank you!”

Jack sat down in the empty chair next to Crutchie, placing the plate of cornbread in the middle of the table. David took a piece, tossing Jack a wink as he did so. Jack’s eyes widened, surprised. It was pretty clear that he’d been functioning under the assumption that David was mad at him. David offered him a small smile. He was upset, sure, but ‘mad’ wasn’t the right word. Besides, he loved Jack, even if he’d rather eat an entire crock pot full of not-kosher chili right in front of his childhood rabbi than admit it.

There were a minimum of five conversations going on at any given point throughout dinner, and nearly everyone was involved in more than one at the same time. It seemed Jack was involved in all of them, but no matter who he was talking to, every minute or so, his eyes would drift over to David, who ate his chili in relative silence, at least pretending to ignore his boyfriend’s not-so-subtle glances. After all, he didn’t know what they meant, and his cognitive load (another Sarah-ism) was far too heavy to add anything else on. After dinner, he helped Crutchie with the dishes.

“Is Jack upset with me?” he asked quietly.

Crutchie sighed. “I don’t think he’s upset with  _ you _ , specifically...”

Great. That meant he was definitely upset, and whether or not he was upset  _ with David _ , David definitely had something to do with it. “Shit, I’m sorry, Crutchie. This is your family dinner, and you invited me, and I immediately made things weird.”

Crutchie shook his head, shushing him. “I  _ know _ you’ve had family dinners before, so you should know that something always goes wrong.” He began washing out the next bowl. “Though you should talk to him later, Jack, I mean. Proper talk. And try to be patient with him; there’s a lot more going on in that pretty head of his than everyone thinks. He told you the gist of it, but...” He sighed, putting down the dish to level a steady gaze at Dave. “Jack Kelly lives in a very different world than ours. It takes a while to learn how to translate right. Like I said, you gotta be patient, and you gotta try to understand.”

Well, if  _ that _ didn’t make David feel like shit...

“I will,” he promised.

* * *

David felt strange, loitering after all the other guys left. Jack and Crutchie set about putting away games and re-straightening the living room, and David didn’t know where anything went, so he ended up sitting at the table on his phone, looking up Fourth of July themed snacks he could potentially make for his parents’ cookout, about which his mom texted him at least once a week by this time of year. About twenty minutes later, Jack and Crutchie had finished tidying, and Crutchie called a ‘goodnight’ to David before heading into the bedroom and shutting the door.

David took a deep breath and turned to Jack. “We should talk?” he suggested.

He saw a flash of fear in Jack’s eyes, and Jack nodded. “Alright.”

David nodded towards the chair across the table from him, silently asking Jack to sit, and he did so, clearly wildly uncomfortable. To be fair, so was David.

“You, uh...” He cleared his throat. “You know I trust you.”

Jack nodded minutely and unsure.

David tried not to let his irritation seep into his voice. “I told you things the other night that I haven’t even told Sarah.”

Jack’s eyes widened a bit. “She doesn’t know?”

David rolled his eyes. “‘Hey, sis. I screwed our hot history teacher when I was fifteen. How are you?’”

Jack laughed awkwardly. “Right...”

“So yes, I trust you,” David huffed, “a lot.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Why did you hit him?”

“Is it not obvious...?”

He thought about it, and he cringed. “Was it... He brought up Katherine?”

“I mean I guess that was part of it...”

“She was...” David forced his cringe into a smile. “She was important, wasn’t she?”

Jack sighed, resting his elbows on the table and dropping his head into his hands for a second, brushing his hands down the back of his head and neck as he straightened up again. “She was. This really wasn’t about her though, it was just a little added sting, yknow?”

“I guess.”

“Dave, he said you’re my toy. How are you not upset about that?” Jack asked, almost exasperated.

David froze. Albert  _ had _ said that, hadn’t he? But everything had moved so fast, David hadn’t had time to process it.

“I guess I was distracted by all the punching.”

Jack let out a short, pained laugh. “I guess that’s fair.” He continued, “I wouldn’t be okay with him saying that in any case, but especially not since...”

Oh. David buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Jaaack...”

He shook his head. “I’m not gonna let someone talk like that. You’re not my toy, Davey. You’re not  _ anyone’s _ toy.”

“You’re right.” David snapped his gaze back up. “I’m also not a damsel in distress, Jack.”

“Wh— I didn’t say you were.” He frowned, confused, and clearly agitated.

David held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, calm down, please.”

Jack bit his lip and took a slow, deep, shaky breath. “Sorry.”

“Jacky, what’s going on?” David leaned forward, confused and frustrated, but mostly concerned. “I’ve never seen you like this. How do I help you?”

“I—...” He groaned, it was almost more of a growl, actually. “It just wasn’t okay. The shit he said. What he was suggesting. It wasn’t okay.”

David slumped back in his chair. He shouldn’t have told Jack about his past. He never told anyone because he knew it would change the way people looked at him...given, he expected people to come to the conclusion that what Albert said was not only okay, but accurate. Jack seemed to have come to the opposite. David, on the other hand...

He shrugged. “Is he wrong, though?”

He saw that same anger flood back into Jack’s eyes. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then stood up, and without a word, walked out of the apartment.

“Jack, come on!” David called after him. When Jack didn’t answer or return, David stood, but hesitated to move. Should he go after him? Should he not? God, he knew next to nothing about Jack’s temper, and what he  _ had _ seen didn’t bode well. He chewed on his bottom lip, deliberating. By all means, Jack had just run away from him, which meant Jack probably didn’t want him around, but...

David would question his life choices later. He went after Jack.

It didn’t take long to find him. After going outside, he had turned to walk towards campus, figuring Jack would probably go into familiar territory instead of wandering the city at random. However, as he passed the alley between the apartment building and it’s neighbor, there was Jac, maybe ten feet into the alley, sitting on the asphalt with his back against the wall. He had his upper arms rested on his knees, and he was leaning forward, hands fisted in his hair just above his forehead.

David’s blood ran cold. “Jack!?” He ran to him and knelt down in front of him. “Are you okay?”

Jack growled in frustration at his appearance. “Dave. Please.” His voice was tight, and thick with...anger? Frustration? Fear?

David pulled away, sitting back on his ankles. He should have listened to his own reason. Jack definitely did not want to see him.

Jack didn’t move, save for a slight tremor in his arms. After a few moments, Dave started to stand up to leave—he shouldn’t have come out here in the first place—but Jack spoke, very quietly. 

“Don’t.”

Slowly, David returned to his place in front of Jack. The boy took a slow, deep breath, and dragged his hands down his face, pausing over his mouth before screwing his eyes tight shut, straightening his back up, and sharply slamming his head back against the wall, producing a rather concerning thud.

“Jack.” David reached out to him, placing his hand on one of Jack’s knees. “Talk to me.”

Jack was already talking very quickly, and gesticulating wildly. “Okay, look, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He took a shaky breath. “I shouldn’t’a left, I know, I’m sorry. But if I didn’t—“ Another shaky breath. “I’ve got— it’s” He groaned. “I  _ know _ I got problems with anger. I know. I’ve gotten better. Crutchie’s helping, and I’m tryin’  _ damn _ hard. And I’m  _ sorry _ . If I stayed I woulda— I can’t— I’m not—” He grit his teeth. “I won’t yell at you, Davey. I won’t.”

David caught Jack’s hands and pulled them into his chest. “It’s okay, if we argue,” he said. He needed to hear it as much as Jack did. “People do that.”

Jack caught himself with one hand against his chest, stopping before properly crashing into the embrace. “No, I know that.” He sat up again, and shut his eyes hard for another moment before meeting David’s eyes. “What you said up there. Do you really think that’s what this is?”

“Not what this is, no.” David shook his head, gesturing between the two of them. “What I am, sure.”

“Alright. What are you?”

David sighed. “Come on, Jacky, don’t—”

Jack shook his head. “No. I need you to explain this to me, ‘cause  _ clearly _ I don’t get it.”

David stood up. He’d spent years alternately believing and vehemently denying the exact words he was about to say.

“In my experience, I am,” he numbered the words off on his hand, “a tease, a bitch, a slut  _ and _ a whore, but somehow also a prude, a doll...several other things, which, now that I think about it, were creepy as hell things to call someone you’re sleeping with and should have been a red flag...and a toy.” He laughed. “I’ve heard it all before. Being your toy is the best I’ve ever gotten. God help me, I think I could even be happy with that.”

Jack took a tremulous breath, hands locking into fists, and nodded. “So, you think you’re just...a toy. My toy. You think I’m just using you. Just playing.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Jack stood as well. “How the hell does that match up? If you’re ‘just a toy’, how does that sum up to anything else?”

David stepped towards him. “ _ You’re _ better than that.”

Jack took a step backwards, shaking his head. “That’s not how that works. If I’m not  _ playing _ ,” he ground the word through his teeth, “then how are you still a toy?”

Jack had backed away from him. David tried to think, tried to figure out how to put his thoughts into words, but he couldn’t. Jack didn’t want him close, and nothing else mattered. “I don’t know,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

“Exactly,” Jack growled, “because it don’t make  _ sense _ . If you’re not being  _ toyed _ with, then you’re not a  _ toy _ .” Jack’s voice was starting to creep up in volume as he spoke, and his fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Catching himself, he ground his teeth, and started again at a lower volume. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m mad at  _ this _ .” He gestured vaguely around at nothing.

David nodded numbly. “I’m sorry I made you mad.”

“I— No, I—” Jack groaned. “Dave, please. I can’t— I’m not.” He growled again, writhing a little where he stood. Jack took another step back, turning away from David and putting his face in his hands. He took yet another deep breath, straightening up and dragging his hands down his face as he turned to face him again. He stepped back towards him, very carefully keeping his breathing even. “Davey. I’m not mad at you.”

“But I caused it,” David grumbled.

Jack shook his head. “You didn’t.”

“I clearly did.”

Jack started about eight different sentences, and stopped. He took a deep breath. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

It just figured that, even when angry, Jack was still perfect, and David was still a hot mess.

“Yes, of course.”

Jack roughly grabbed one of his wrists and yanked him into his chest as he stepped forward, letting go of his wrist and wrapping his arms around him as tight as he could, burying his face in his shoulder. David held onto him just as tightly. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to be held—or, rather, for Jack to hold him. Jack didn’t say a word, and didn’t move a muscle, save for occasionally readjusting and somehow managing to hold on even tighter. After a good minute, David felt Jack’s mouth moving against his shoulder, shaping words that he couldn’t hear.

“Jacky?”

He grunted, unmoving.

David gripped the back of Jack’s shirt, like if he let go, Jack would run away again. “I don’t like arguing with you.”

Jack muttered into his shoulder unintelligibly and held on even tighter.

“I can’t hear you, baby.”

A very muffled, “I know.”

David sighed and rubbed Jack’s back. “Come on, talk to me?”

Jack shook his head.

David bit his lip hard to distract him from how badly that hurt, only stopping when he tasted blood. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what Jack needed. He wanted to tell him he loved him, but settled for holding him and hoping he knew David would do anything to make him feel better. About two minutes later, he felt Jack’s arms loosen around him. He reached a little awkwardly behind himself to get a hold on David’s arms, and pulled them down, back by his sides. He interlaced their fingers, and moved to place his forehead against Davey’s.

“Thank you.” Jack’s voice was normal now. Gentle.

He blinked. “I didn’t do anything.”

Jack almost imperceptibly shook his head. “You helped me calm down.”

“...Oh.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He tilted his head up to press his lips to Jack’s forehead. “I’m always here for you.”

Jack exhaled, smiling softly, and squeezed his hands. For a moment, David couldn’t breathe. Jack was too good, too beautiful inside and out, and for some reason, he chose David.

After another minute, Jack straightened up, and took a step back, but didn’t let go of his hands. He spoke softly, but very seriously. “Davey, I care about you. A lot.” He chuckled. “Like, stupid sort of a lot. And shit like that,” he jerked his head in the direction of the apartment building, “like what Albert said, I’m not gonna be okay with it. Ever. At all. I’m not trying to fight your fights for you, and I know you don’t need rescuing or whatever. You said you’ve heard it all, and I’m sure you’ve got a plenty thick skin for it, but  _ I  _ can’t stand it.  _ I  _ can’t hear people say those things about you. I won’t.” He sighed. “You don’t like the fighting, so I’ll try my best not to, I promise. Words not fists, blah blah blah. I promise I’ll try. But...” He shrugged, uncomfortably. “It’s not gonna be a one time thing, I can tell you that for sure. Bein’ like this, being angry, it was the only option for me. That was all I could do. And I know that things are different, and I’m not in those same situations,” he let out a small, sad chuckle, “but it’s damn hard to push against somethin’ I’ve been my whole life.” He took a breath before pushing on. “I’ve got trouble with anger, I know it.” He chuckled dryly. “Everyone knows it. Most things can’t touch me, but the stuff that gets under my skin...I just can’t help it. I’m gonna get angry, and it ain’t gonna be pretty, but I promise you,” here he let go of David’s hands, bringing his own up to gently cup his face, “I will  _ never _ be angry at you like that.”

David didn’t say what he immediately thought, which was, ‘ _ You don’t know that _ ’. That may have been true, but he still  _ believed _ Jack.

“How about this?” David settled his hands on Jack’s hips. “If I need your help, I will ask you, and I will do my best to understand.”

Jack nodded. “And I’ll do my best to keep my shit reined in. Just don’t expect me to be cool about people talking shit or anything about you.”

“Okay,” David smiled, “but maybe you could settle for telling them off instead of breaking their faces?”

“It’ll depend on what they said, or did, but I’ll try.”

“I can live with that.” David shifted his eyes up so he could see Jack’s. “I’m sorry if I ruined family dinner. Maybe, if you’ll let me, I can make it up to you next month?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh yeah? How?”

“By kicking everyone ass in Cards Against Humanity,” David laughed. “May I kiss you?”

Jack laughed. “Baby you don’t ever have to ask that, it’s always gonna be a yes.”

“Good to know.” David pulled Jack in and kissed him slowly, letting all of the craziness of the last few days—hell, the last week and a half—float away.

“For what it’s worth, Jack,” David said when they broke apart, “you’re making me believe I’m worth more than...” He gestured vaguely, for some reason shying away from the topic of sex with the guy he had very nearly done it with just a few days before.

Relief, happiness, and a host of other emotions flashed behind Jack’s eyes. He moved his hands to get a pretty solid grip on the sides of his shoulders. “Dave, look at me.”

David properly met Jack’s eyes for the first time that night. He would have to ask Sarah whether you can overdose on that chemical your brain makes when you love someone, because if so, he was in trouble.

“You are worth  _ everything _ .”

David melted. “Jacky...”

He shook his head firmly. “No I, mean it.  _ Everything _ . You’re kind, you’re caring, you’re funny, honestly probably the smartest person I’ve ever met, and god you are so fucking beautiful.” The last was let out in a breathless laugh. “The guys love you already—they have real weird ways of showing it, so you probably think they hate you—and if they didn’t before they sure as shit do after Auschwitz.” Jack paused for half a breath to frown at how bizarre the sentence he just said was, before briefly shaking his head and moving on. “You’re sweet, and you’re compassionate, and you’re generous, and goddammit Davey,” he laughed helplessly again, letting go of him and backing up half a step, “whatever you want out of life I’m gonna make it happen. You want me to stop fighting? I will. You want a game night with the guys so you can wipe the floor with us? You got it.” Another laugh. “I’ll pull the moon right outta the sky for you if it’ll make you happy. I’ll—“

“Jack!” David laughed. “I don’t need any of those things.”

He shook his head again. “Doesn’t matter, you’re worth it.”

“Just be mine.” David reached out to Jack to pull him closer. “That’s enough.”

“See?” Jack muttered, smiling as he slid his arms around his waist again. “Fucking precious.” He kissed him shortly, only pulling away about an inch to smile and say. “As long as you want me, I’m yours.”

David thought that would be a very long time.


	20. Mr. Fish Facts, Fish Me a Fact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Davey go on an aquarium date, everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Andy and Kitty writing an actual fluffy chapter? Is Jesus coming back?
> 
> I'm low key embarrassed by how few of these facts I had to look up.

It was the last weekend of spring break, and Jack was determined to have fun. There had been way too much drama and stress over the past week.

He and Davey were in the student center, discussing what to do. Davey, sitting near the end of one of the skinny couches in the student lounge, had been suggesting nice, quiet, simple activities for the day, such as watching a movie, making lunch together, going to the library, or the art museum, whereas Jack, laying along the length of the couch with his head in Davey’s lap, was trying to convince him that laser tag was a much better idea.

“Dave, c’mon. Why would you wanna look at a bunch of lousy art in a big stale building when you could run around in a dark, day-glo fever dream maze and shoot people with lasers? There’s a place nearby. It’s kinda janky, but it’s cheap, and they’ve got a student discount day, which conveniently is today.”

David laughed brightly, gently petting Jack’s hair. “I never thought I’d hear the words ‘lousy art’ come out of your mouth.”

“Be reasonable, pretty much  _ everything _ is lousy compared to lasers.”

“That’s fair.”

“It’s $8 per game for weekends, with the student discount.”

Davey clearly wasn’t listening anymore. Instead, he was fiddling with his phone on the arm of the couch with a fond but far away look on his face. “When I was a kid,” he said, “growing up here, my family used to go to Coney Island every spring break, go to the aquarium and everything. The aquarium was my favorite. Then, Les came along and went through this wicked shark phase.” His smile faltered and his eyes glazed over. “So many stuffed sharks...”

Jack laughed. “So now you hate it?”

“What?” David snapped back to attention. “Oh no, I love it. It’s still one of my favorite places to go.”

Jack nodded. “Gotcha. What’s it like?”

Davey rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You’re going to try to tell me that you’ve lived in New York City your whole life, never left the state, and never went to the New York Aquarium?”

Jack’s smile faltered. Dave always insisted it wasn’t a problem, but he was still very self conscious about his lack of funding. Most couples go on dates to nice restaurants, or movies and  _ then _ nice restaurants, not Jacobi’s Deli and chasing pigeons in Central Park.

“Uh, yeah, I guess I never really had the...time...” he offered unconvincingly.

Davey stared at him in horror for a few seconds, then, “Alright. Get up. We’re going.”

“Wh— Dave, I don’t—”

“Up.” Davey smacked him lightly on the head.

Protesting and sputtering, Jack sat up, removing himself from his boyfriend's lap. Davey stood up, grabbing Jack’s arm and dragging him with him. He grumbled something about “kids these days” and “environmental education” as he did.

Jack laughed helplessly. “Alright, alright, we can go to the aquarium. But I’m gonna get you a stuffed shark and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Deal.” Davey kissed his cheek. “Let’s go.”

* * *

David hadn’t been to the aquarium in... Well, since he and his family moved upstate. How long ago was that? Almost five years. David hadn’t been to the aquarium in almost five years. Walking inside the Conservation Hall was like coming home after a long time. He’d always found the aquarium so relaxing, with the water and the fish swimming peacefully, not worrying about predators or pollution or where their next meal would come from. He had also made some of his best memories with his family in that place. He just hoped Jack would love it as much as he did.

Looking at Jack, David noticed him gripping the edge of his shirt, looking warily at the massive, floor to ceiling tanks.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He supposed it could be pretty intimidating, if you had never seen it before.”

“Yeah,” he replied,  _ very _ unconvincingly. “Just...that’s a lotta water, and not a lotta gla—  _ Holy shit _ is that a lionfish!?” In an instant, Jack had dove into the throng of people and was quickly disappearing as he made for the glass.

“Oh no. Jacky?” David waded into the crowd. Unlike Jack, he was not willing to trample children to get to the lionfish. “Excuse me, and him, I’m sorry,” he muttered to whoever around him chose to listen.

Jack obviously hadn’t gone far, and was now standing very still, locking eyes with—what a surprise—a lion fish.

David discreetly took a photo with his phone. “Make a new friend?”

“Race is gonna  _ flip _ .” Jack was grinning ear to ear as he blindly reached for his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tried his best to take a picture of the fish without breaking eye contact.

David chuckled, leaning with his shoulder against the glass. “Does he like lionfish?”

Jack nodded. “Cause they’re pretty and poisonous, ‘like him’.” He made quotation marks with his hands.

“Well, tell Race that they’re venomous, not poisonous,” David said. “You can eat them. People do.”

Jack broke eye contact with the fish, looking incredulously at him. “Why the hell would you  _ eat _ one ‘a those?”

David shrugged. “Apparently they’re good. And they’re invasive in Florida. They’re taking over the reefs and killing all the native fish.”

Jack turned the corners of his mouth down, lifting his eyebrows and nodding slightly, as one does when learning mildly surprising information. “So do you know a lot about all fish, or just lionfish?”

“...Some fish, I guess?”

“Mmhm, like what? Tell me fish facts.”

David sputtered a laugh. “Fish facts. Okay. Um...parrotfish poop sand.”

Jack choked and burst into laughter. “They  _ what? _ ”

“Go and look it up!”

“I absolutely refuse.”

David grinned. “Well, they do, so next time you’re at the beach—”

“Ewww.” Jack cringed.

“You asked for fish facts,” David pointed out. “I gave you a fish fact.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Okay, smartass. You said this was your favorite place. What’s your favorite part?”

David looked around. “Jeez, Jack, it’s been so long...”

“Wrong answer.” Jack poked him in the ribs. “It’s me.”

David grabbed his hand, both to stop the poking and to hold his hand because he wanted to. “You’re right.”

Jack snickered, happily surrendering and closing his fingers around David’s. “Alright, so what are we gonna go see first?”

“Whatever you want! You’re the one who’s never been here.”

“A’right, I wanna see sharks.” He grinned mischievously.

“Then let’s see sharks.” David took off towards the sharks in a speed-walk, pulling Jack behind him.

“Whoa what’s the rush?” Jack laughed.

Davey smiled back at him. “If you reacted like that to a lionfish, I can’t wait to show you a shark.”

Jack cringed. “Oh no, you’re gonna be mean to me ‘cause I’ve never seen anything, aren’t you?”

“Of course not.” David stopped. “You’re excited, and it’s cute, and I love it.”

“Mm, sounds suspicious.”

“Would you just come on?”

Davey lead Jack out of the conservation hall and towards the sharks. They didn’t get very far.

“Whoa. wait, seals!!!” And Jack had bolted again.

“Jack!” David laughed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He followed behind Jack at a much more reasonable pace. “First of all, those are sea lions, not seals. They’re a little bit different. Second, slow down, for God’s sake.”

“No, no, the sign says seals.” Jack pointed to a sign that was not at all connected to the enclosure he was looking into.

David shook his head. “Seals can’t rotate their hips like that, and they don’t have external ear pinnae, and if you look at the way their flippers—”

Jack very slowly turned to look at him as he was talking, completely deadpan.

“—are sized, bigger in the front and—...What?”

“You.” Jack took a slow step forwards, a small, tender, beautiful smile spreading across his face as he raised a hand to cup his face. “Are su _ ch a nerd!!! _ ”

David shoved him off. “ _ Pinnipeds are cool! _ “

Jack burst into loud laughter, slumping against the pole of a nearby shade structure.

“Jacky, they can hold their breath for, like, ten minutes!”

Impressive as the lung capacity of a pinniped may be, it was clear that Jack’s did not match. Every word out of David’s mouth sent him deeper into helpless laughter, and by this point he was gasping for breath, begging him to stop being such a giant dingus.

David got right down in his face. “You don’t want me to talk about how their gestation period is about the same as a human’s, but due to delayed implantation, the pup isn’t actually born until a whole year after they mate?”

Jack was crying at this point, sliding down to land with a thud on the ground, where he continued to laugh breathlessly. “Davey, for god's sake,” he managed to gasp out between sobs of laughter.

David sat down next to him. “Are we having fun yet?”

Jack slumped sideways into him, burying his face in his shoulder as his laughter oh so slowly faded.

David nudged him. “You good?”

He straightened up, smiling. “I just don’t understand how a dumbass like you can be so smart.”

Davey gasped exaggeratedly. “Language! There are children here!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right. I don’t understand how a dumbass like you can be so  _ fucking _ smart.”

“Shh!” David hissed, giggling all the while. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m not the one in love with pinnipeds.”

“I’m not in love with pinnipeds.” David stopped just short of adding, ‘I’m in love with you’.

“Oh sure,” Jack teased, using David’s shoulder to push himself to his feet. “That’s what they all say.”

David stood up next to Jack. “If that’s the case, you’ll have to work even harder to steal my affections.”

Jack’s eyebrows darted up playfully. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.” Jack grinned at him for a moment before returning his attention to the enclosure. “Okay Mr. Fish Facts. Tell me about your beloved pinnipeds.”

David’s whole day got a little bit brighter, and he wasn’t sure if the sun had peeked out from behind a cloud or if it was just Jack. “Well, first of all, these aren’t fish facts, because pinnipeds are mammals.”

“So does that mean we’re pinnipeds?”

“No.”

Jack laughed. “I know, I’m teasing. Did you know there was some minor and very brief fuss about whether or not coconuts qualify as mammals?”

“I’ve heard of that, yes,” David nodded, “but nothing will ever beat Diogenes trying to pass off a plucked chicken as a man.”

Jack frowned quizzically. “I didn’t realize Race was alive back then.”

“Are you implying that Race is Diogenes or a plucked chicken?”

“Sweetheart, Race couldn’t even  _ spell _ Diogenes, let alone be him.”

Davey smirked. “Can  _ you _ spell Diogenes?”

“Doesn’t matter what I can and can’t spell. My boyfriend’s an English major, he can do it for the both of us.” Jack stuck his tongue out.

David laughed, hooking an arm around Jack’s waist. “Do you want to see sharks, now?”

He nodded, slinging his arm around his shoulders so the two were well locked together, and pressed a kiss to David’s temple.

“Sure, lets go.”

Unfortunately, there was one more animal between them and the sharks. Catching a glimpse of the inside of the enclosure as they started to pass, Jack let out the least manly squeal David had ever heard, and started quickly towards it, dragging David along by his wrist. David just rolled his eyes and let himself be pulled.

“Are  _ they _ pinnipeds?”

David had to admit, the otters were very cute, but they were nowhere near as cute as the very curious, very excited Jack Kelly he had been blessed with on this day.

“No, pinnipeds are just seals and sea lions,” he told him. “Oh, and walruses. I don’t know nearly as much about otters.”

“Why the fixation?” Speaking of fixation, Jack was riveted. His eyes would lock on an otter for a few seconds before moving onto the next one, and he was grinning like a mad man.

“On pinnipeds, you mean?” David asked, way more invested in watching Jack than in their conversation. God, could he be more fucking adorable?

A scoff of laughter and he shot David a half second of a scrunched up smile. “Yeah what else?”

David shrugged. “I don’t know. When we used to come here—my family, I mean—I just...liked them, I guess, so I read about them.”

He nodded, smiling as he watched the otters roaming their habitat. “That’s real cute— _ holy shit _ that one just ran into the wall!”

David shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy, so blissfully content, if he ever had, and it was all because if a grown man losing his shit over otters.

It was at least five minutes before Jack was willing to move on, and the two once again headed towards the sharks. It took a little over two hours for them to get through the massive indoor exhibit as Jack insisted on spending at least ten minutes looking at every single exhibit and wouldn’t move on until David had provided a fish fact for each. By about two o’clock, they exited the main hall into the gift shop you had to go through to get out of the building. Jack glanced around, snickering at the awful, kitschy merchandise.

“Hey, Dave, you should get that,” Jack said, pointing towards a hat shaped like a shark, that would be ‘biting’ your head when you wore it.

David snorted. “Why?”

“You’d look pretty,” Jack teased, turning to walk towards a shelf set into the wall that was packed floor to ceiling with junk.

David trailed behind. “I’d look pretty, being eaten by a shark? That’s a new one.”

“Shouldn’t be, you always look pretty.” Jack had stopped about ten feet in front of the wall, distracted by a large round kiosk with compartments full of stuffed animals—eels, rays, turtles, and five different kinds of sharks.

“Even in a sweater vest?” he teased, nudging Jack playfully.

Jack chuckled. “For sure.”

After briefly inspecting the contents of the kiosk, Jack pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open, glancing inside before folding it and returning it to his pocket. “Did Les have a favorite kind of shark?”

“Sand tiger shark—the ones with the crazy teeth. Why?”

He nodded, humming in acknowledgement as he poked through the bins of stuffed animals.

“Did you have a favorite?” David asked.

“Oh, I liked the little fast ones that were in the tunnel.”

“Cute,” David chuckled.

“Yeah well so’s your face.” Jack pulled a rather ugly, brown, snaggletoothed shark out of the bin and scrutinized it. “This look like the right guy?”

“The right guy?”

“For Les.”

David blinked. “For...my brother Les?”

“Yeah...” Jack looked a little sheepish, and a barely noticeable pink tinged his cheeks. “You said you guys used to come here all the time, but not since you moved upstate. And how he had all those shark stuffed animals and I dunno I thought maybe you’d want to send him one. As a like, ‘for old times sake’ sorta thing.”

“Oh my god, that’s—” David faltered, realizing for the first time he should probably mention... “Jack, that’s so sweet.”

Jack shrugged, shying away a little. “Nah, it’s weird, I don’t even know the kid, I shouldn’t’a— Besides, you said he’s in eighth grade. What’s he gonna want with a stuffed shark?”

“No, it’s not that. He’d love it. And he knows about you, of course, it’s just that, uh...” David cringed. It sounded really stupid, now. “I didn’t tell him everything.”

Jack frowned slightly in confusion, not getting it.

“Specifically,” David shrunk back in embarrassment, “I didn’t tell him that you’re not a woman.”

Jack blinked. “Oh. Right, uh...”

“It’s stupid. I’m sorry. I’m not ashamed of you or anything like that,” David insisted. “The opposite, actually. I’m just scared, and Les and my parents think I have a girlfriend named Kelly, and I don’t know how to tell them I lied.”

Jack let out a short laugh, putting the shark back into the bin. “No, it’s fine. You told me not a lot of people know. It’s your business. Do they think I’m a pretty girl, at least?”

“No, I told them I’m dating a harpy.” David rolled his eyes. “Of course, I told them you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Aww babe.” Jack stepped over to press a short kiss to his lips. “You’re a dork!”

“Oh yeah?” David shoved him. “What does that make you?”

Jack laughed, but then paused, eyebrows knitting in confusion. “I met Sarah though...?”

“Sarah knows me too well,” David sighed. “She called it.”

Jack nodded. “Gotcha. So probably not the best idea for me to be buying shit for your family, huh?”

“Probably not, but only because you don’t need to do that.” David kissed Jack on the cheek. “You’re too good for any of us.”

Jack waved dismissively. “I’m not too good for anything.”

“You are,” David took his hand, “and I’m going to make you believe it.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack smirked. “How’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

David had no idea how he was going to make Jack believe it, but he would figure it out.

After watching the sea lion show at the Aquatheater, the boys decided to head to the Conservation Hall again, actually taking time to look at everything, and go through the reef room. They were standing just behind a small throng of kindergartners, all of whom were smashed as close as they could to the exhibit in front of them. The massive floor to ceiling tank was filled with sand and bright corals, with scores of fish gliding through the water. Jack had hooked his arm through Davey’s before shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning his head sideways against his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Davey pointed to a medium-sized fish with a weird mouth. “That’s a parrotfish.”

Jack peered at it skeptically. “Don’ look like it.”

“Oh, you know what a parrotfish looks like?” David asked incredulously.

“No, but I know a parrot’s got wings, and that guy sure doesn’t.” Jack teased.

“Parrot- _ fish _ , doofus. We talked about them earlier. What, did you think parrots the birds were pooping sand out of the sky?”

“They very well could be!”

“You live in New York. I  _ know _ you know what bird feces looks like.”

Jack laughed. He sighed contentedly, eyes drifting lazily over the variety of creatures in the tank in front of them. A comfortable smile settled on his face as he shifted a little bit closer to Davey. This was nice. Not just the aquarium, although it was pretty incredibly, but being there with Davey. Listening to him talk about so many different things that Jack had no idea where he’d found the time to learn them all. He always got this little glint in his eyes when Jack asked him questions, and it was just the cutest damned thing to see him get excited about the difference between genotype and phenotype—which Jack had already forgotten.

“So the thing about damselfish is that they can change their sex,” David said, almost bouncing. “A lot of them are born male, then become female. How awesome is that?”

Jack once again drew the corners of his mouth down in bemused interest. “‘T’s pretty fuckin’ weird.”

Davey smacked his arm and gave him a look, nodding towards the group of kids in front of them.

Jack cringed a smile. “Shit, sorry.” He clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening and biting down an abashed giggle.

Davey rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “We’ll work on that, before I bring you to anywhere else that caters to children.”

Suddenly, Jack found himself imagining what it might be like to have kids. Specifically, to have kids with Davey Jacobs. He’d spent the first eighteen years of his life protecting, caring, and providing for dozens of kids, yet somehow, he’d never considered having some of his own someday.

Davey leaned in. “Jack, you’re looking at those kids like you want to eat them,” he said quietly.

Jack choked and failed to stifle an explosion of laughter. “Dave, Jesus Christ.” he laughed.

“I’m just saying,” Davey laughed along. “Get it together, Jackywise, I don’t want to scare anyone.”

“‘Jackywise’!?”

“Shut up—it totally works!”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack teased.

The kindergartners moved on to the next exhibit, and Davey moved up to the glass. “Sarah likes scary movies,” he explained. “She let Les watch Jaws during his shark phase. She was grounded, but it actually didn’t bother him at all. They’re braver than me. I didn’t sleep for a month after watching The Babadook.” He pointed at a fish. “Oh, look at the little rainbow wrasse! It’s so pretty!”

Jack chuckled, shaking his head and smiling as he watched Davey. He bit his bottom lip, marveling at this ridiculous, smart,  _ beautiful _ man in front of him. Jack didn’t at all understand what Davey saw in him. Sure, Davey’s past was a little rough, there’s no denying that. Jack’s heart ached for him, but at least he wasn’t the one whose ‘still developing brain’ had been ‘irreversibly damaged by traumatic events’. Why would anyone want to be with someone like Jack? Someone...damaged...

He shook his head sharply. Today was supposed to be fun. Happy. He stepped up towards the glass as well, moving behind David and resting his chin on one of his shoulders as he settled his arms loosely around his waist.

Davey was still gesturing helplessly at the rainbow wrasse. “Is that not the most beautiful fish you’ve ever seen?”

Jack kissed his cheek. “It’s alright,”

“You’re an artist! Aren’t you supposed to be into colors and shapes and things?”

Jack laughed, actually looking at the fish now instead of at Davey. “You’re right; it’s very pretty.”

Davey leaned his head back onto Jack and settled into his arms. Jack tilted his head so he could drop a quick kiss at the base of his neck and then returned to looking at the fish, humming contentedly. They watched the fish for several minutes before Jack realized Davey wasn’t watching them at all; his eyes were closed. Smiling and softly humming the song stuck in his head, Jack began to rock ever so slightly side to side, arms secure around his waist.

“I’m not sleeping, you know,” Davey said softly. “It’s just...this is nice.”

Jack’s voice stayed a quiet, barely audible murmur as he spoke. “Ah, see, I thought you were a giraffe and could sleep upright.”

“Hmm, you never know. I’m full of surprises.”

“You’re tall enough, that’s for sure.” He was quiet for a moment, still swaying. “How long is your tongue though?”

Davey picked his head up specifically frown at Jack. “I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

“Don’t giraffes have super long tongues or something?” Jack tilted his head so he could meet his eyes. “If you aren’t sure about yours, I’d be happy to help you check.”

“One,” Davey held up a finger, “yes, they do. Two,” another finger, “do it, I dare you.”

Jack lifted his chin off of Davey’s shoulder, inclining his head slightly, eyebrows going up as a mischievous smile spread across his face. “Just makin’ sure I got this right; you dare me to check out your tongue, right here right now in the middle of the aquarium?”

Davey shrugged, grinning. “Unless you’d rather take me home first.”

Oh my god, was Davey...flirting? Did he do that? Was Davey Jacobs capable of flirting?

Jack’s eyes widened in amused shock. “You sure about that?”

Davey tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t I be? We’ve seen everything here.”

“I—...yeah, okay, that’s a fair point.”

“You know, you once told me  _ I’m _ easy to get flustered?” Davey giggled.

Jack straightened up fully and held his hands up a little, shrugging. “I’m just surprised is all.”

“Like I said, I’m full of surprises.” Davey backed away to take his hand.

Jack chuckled, shaking his head and closing his fingers around Davey’s. “I’m sure you are.” He glanced at his watch, and then jerked his head towards the entrance. “C’mon, we can make it on the next bus if we go now.”


	21. So an Ace and a Bi Walk into a Sex Scene...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack can't take a fucking hint and Davey is exasperated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister's the ace, I'm the bi, and this is most of a sex scene that abruptly ends before we actually had to talk about dicks. Have fun.

Walking hand in hand away from the bus stop and deeper into campus, Jack tried his best to keep his mind on how fun the day had been, and how happy Davey had looked, rather than thinking about how much money he had spent. A bus ticket, admission to the aquarium, over-priced aquarium lunch, and then another bus ticket. He’d be living off of thirty-five cent instant noodles and minute rice for weeks. Part of him wondered why he didn’t just  _ tell _ Davey. He would understand. Of course, he would. Jack had told Davey about his criminal record, then pummeled Albert right in front of him, and Davey was still there. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach. He loved this boy. He wanted to be able to get him nice things, and take him nice places. He wanted to be able to provide. Jack knew that none of that mattered to Davey, but it mattered to Jack. It had never mattered to Jack, before.

“What was your favorite part?” Davey asked him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He quickly jerked his attention back to the present, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “D—fish!”

Davey raised an eyebrow. “Fish?”

“Uh, yeah, I liked how many there were.” Jack answered lamely.

“Right?” Davey smiled. “The biodiversity in the ocean is just incredible, and to think we’ve explored less than twenty percent of it. You know, just last year, scientists classified a whole new ecotype—”

And he was off.

Jack just watched him, listening more to the sound of his voice than the actual words. It continually blew him away how much stuff Davey just  _ knew _ . Without even trying. And he was always so  _ happy _ about it. Jack could spend his whole life studying, and he would never know as much as Davey Jacobs. A small smile found its way across Jack’s mouth, and he brought Davey’s hand up to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

Davey’s sentence—something about the dolphin family  _ delphini _ -whatever—abruptly cut off. “What’s that for?” he asked softly.

“Nothin’,” Jack offered a tiny smile that somehow was the face for the torrent of emotions that he felt in regards to Davey Jacobs.

Davey moved in closer, so his shoulder brushed against Jack’s as they walked. “Do you want me to stop talking about dolphins, now? I don’t even remember how we got on the subject of dolphins.”

“Sweetheart, you can talk about whatever you want to talk about. I just like listening to you.”

Davey’s cheeks turned red. “Well, we could talk about something  _ you _ like.”

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “We’d run outta subject matter real fast. I’m not smart like you. My shit don’ have any depth.”

“Oh yeah?” Davey asked, “Who’s your favorite artist?”

“Van Gogh. Any landscape impressionist, really, but I like the rawness of his.”

“Mmhm. Tell me more about that.”

“Well, the thing with Impressionism is that it isn’t clear. Like, if you’re far away it looks like a proper picture, but the closer you get the more muddled it gets. It isn’t proper painting a thing, it’s painting the impression of a thing—what it’s like, not what it is—and it’s crazy detailed, and usually done with super tiny, delicate brush strokes. Well, Van Gogh’s work is real messy, real choppy. Big, thick brush strokes, with way too much paint on the brush. It’s all harsh and just  _ raw _ .” Jack took a breath, feeling a smile pulling at his lips as he started talking again. He knew what Davey was doing—‘see Jack? You’re smarter than you think’—but he was much too caught up in sharing his world with Davey to bother caring. “He liked to work within what he called the ‘guise of reality’, meaning his stuff was like, impressions of impressions. He was relatively abstract, as far as impressionists go, but he was very critical of over stylized stuff. Like, he thought his own Starry Night was over the top.”

“It is pretty over-the-top, isn’t it?” Davey mused, smiling brighter than the sun.

Jack nodded, laughing. “Yeah, it is, I like it, though. It’s one of my favorites.”

Davey nodded.

Jack narrowed his eyes at him, smiling. “I know what you’re doing, Davey. I’m not smarter than I think, I just like painting.”

Davey pouted over-dramatically. “Maybe I just like hearing about my boyfriend’s interests. Ever think of that?”

Jack shook his head musingly. “Y’know I didn’t...”

“Because you’re an idiot,” Davey said resolutely. He winked at Jack. “But you’re  _ my _ idiot.”

“Mm, damn right I am.” He grinned, wrinkling up his nose and leaning over to kiss him, only briefly, as they were still walking.

Davey’s dorm came into view as they turned a corner, and they both slowed down in synchrony. Davey held Jack’s hand a little tighter. Jack didn’t want to let him go, either.

He smiled. “I had fun today, Davey. Thanks for showing me the aquarium.”

Davey smiled back. “Thank you for letting me. I had fun, too.” 

They came to a stop in front of the dorm, but Davey didn’t let go of Jack’s hand. He bit his lip, looking at the doors in deep thought.

“You could stay with me, you know,” he said at last, turning back to Jack, “if you wanted.”

“Wh—?” He let out a breath of confused laughter. “‘Stay with you’? I thought we’d established a while ago that I ain’t breakin’ up with you.” Jack teased.

“No, I mean...” Davey hesitated, dropping his gaze to their joined hands before slowly raising it to meet Jack’s eyes again. “My roommates are in California. They won’t be back until tomorrow night. You could stay with me.”

Was he...? No, he couldn’t mean it that way. No way in hell. He just meant a plain sleepover. Jack supposed it made sense, seeing as Davey had slept at his place a few times now. He smiled. “Yeah alright, that doesn’t sound like the worst idea.”

Davey’s eyes lit up. “I mean, dorm beds suck, but yours isn’t much better,” he said teasingly. “Come on, my rooms even pretty clean for once, with the wonder twins gone.”

Jack laughed. “You’ve seen what I live in, I’m sure your place is spotless in comparison.”

“Well, you could let me  _ show you _ .”

Davey pulled Jack inside and led him down the hall to the stairwell. At the second landing, he gestured to the floor. “If you’ll look directly below you, you’ll see the spot where I almost died.”

Jack cringed. “Wow, how scenic.”

“Blessing in disguise. I got to spend the night with a pretty hot guy, so...”

“Hmm, I don’t have to get jealous, do I?” he teased.

“Never,” Davey assured him.

They continued up the stairs, then down another hall, past a door labeled ‘Sean Conlon, RA’ with ‘Sean’ crossed out and replaced with ‘Spot.’ Only when they reached Davey’s room did Davey let go of Jack’s hand to unlock the door.

Jack was snickering at the label on Spot’s door. “I don’t get how such a jackass got placed as an RA.”

“He’s a good RA!” The door swung open, and Davey ushered Jack inside.

Davey Jacobs’ dorm room looked exactly how Jack imagined—not that he spent an inordinate amount of time fantasizing about his boyfriend’s dorm room. He spent a completely reasonable amount of time fantasizing about his boyfriend’s dorm room. Nonetheless, it looked...like Davey. His roommates’ side was a bit cluttered, but his side was immaculate. Everything was clean and straight and in a clearly designated place. The bed was made. An old family photo sat on the desk, depicting a much younger Davey with his parents, an equally young Sarah, and an even younger boy. Sarah had braces. Davey looked just like his dad. Jack smiled as he looked around the room, the walls had a few posters on them, but mostly just on the Delanceys’ side. Davey has some decorations, but they were all nice and simple. Jack stopped short and a small gasp laughter escaped as he recognized his pigeon drawing taped to the wall next to Davey’s bed.

“What?” Davey asked, frowning.

“My pigeon!” He pointed at the wall.

“Oh.” Davey blushed slightly. “Yeah. I kind of love it?”

Jack laughed, moving towards the desk. “You’re adorable.” He bent down to get a clearer look at the photo, and snickered. “Oh my god, look at you.”

Davey groaned, sitting down heavily on the end of his bed. “Please don’t look at me.”

“Aww, but that’s my favorite thing to do!” Jack pouted.

Davey pointed at the picture. “I was fourteen. That’s, like, prime awkward teen years.”

Jack picked the picture up off the desk, looking at it. “Look at your dumb polo shirt.”

“It was a school uniform!”

“Your school had a  _ uniform? _ ”

“How the hell do you think I got like this!?”

Jack burst into proper laughter and set the photo back down. “God, what happened to me? I used to be such a badass and now I’m in lo—a relationship with a giant nerd.” Jack cringed, barely switching words in time.

“Says the man who can rattle off Star Wars facts for days,” Davey quipped, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed and leaning forward towards Jack.

“Like I said, I’m a badass.” Jack winked, snickering.

Davey nodded. “The biggest badass in all of New York.” He held out his arms. “Now cuddle your damn boyfriend.”

Jack laughed again, walking over to sit next to him and dropping an arm over his shoulders. “A’right, I’m here.”

Davey snuggled into him and placed a gentle kiss on the side of his neck.

Jack sighed contentedly, still looking absently around the room. “How come you’re stuck with those dickwads anyway?”

“That’s what happens when you transfer in the middle of the school year,” Davey grumbled. “I can’t wait until next year. I have no idea who I’m going to room with, though.”

Jack hummed in acknowledgement. “Hopefully not someone who’ll push you down the stairs.”

“They didn’t push me.”

Jack sighed. “If you say so.”

“Hey.” Davey tilted his head up and brushed his hand through the back of Jack’s hair. He pressed his lips firmly against the corner of Jack’s. “Forget about them.”

Sometimes he didn’t understand Davey. He was such an optimist, always seeing the good in everyone and in everything, except for himself. How could someone so amazing and beautiful and kind see themself as useless? Jack turned his head to meet Davey’s lips in a brief kiss. “Yeah, alright, forget object permanence; they aren’t here, so they don’t exist.”

“That’s right.” Davey kissed him again. “Screw them.”

Jack cringed out a smile. “I’d really rather not. I don’t think anyone involved would enjoy that.”

Davey laughed and snuggled back up to his side.

Jack planted a kiss on the side of his head, smiling, happy to simply be in Davey’s presence. “So, what’s the plan? I somehow doubt your roommates have candyland.”

Davey shrugged. “I have Netflix.”

“Alright, wha’d’you wanna watch?”

He shrugged again. “Want to find the worst rom-com we can and cry over it?”

“See if they still have ‘A Christmas Prince’ or whatever it was called.”

Davey cringed, standing to retrieve his laptop off his desk. “Dare I ask what on Earth that is?” He sat back down next to Jack.

Davey’s background screen was an even older picture of him and Sarah. They looked to be around four or five years old, and they were dressed up as the blue and pink Power Rangers, but it was still unmistakably them.

“It’s this terrible Netflix original Hallmark mov—oh my god, look at you guys!!!” Jack stole the laptop off Davey’s lap before he could hide the picture.

“Jaaack,” Davey whined.

“How old were you? Oh my god. Was this Halloween, or just normal daily wear?” he teased, completely delighted.

“Almost five, it was Halloween, and our parents dressed us,” Davey huffed. “And don’t worry, Sarah has given them plenty of shit about the gendered colors.”

“Oh my goddddd, this is precious.” Jack felt a small pang of jealousy, and tried his best to squash it. Davey having a happy childhood and fun holidays with his family was a good thing.

“Okay, okay.” Davey snatched the laptop back. ‘A Christmas Prince’, you say?”

Still smiling, Jack nodded. “Me and the guys have this game, where we pick a random rom-com, and every time a trope comes up, you drink.” He explained. “Girl works for some magazine or fashion related thing and she ‘just wants to focus on her career right now’, flamboyant gay friend, kisses in the rain, a mysterious stranger met while on vacation and suddenly they’re in love, all that shit.”

“Sounds fun,” Davey said, clearly more focused on getting the movie set up than on Jack’s story, at the moment.

Jack shrugged, scooting up towards the head of the bed, and making himself busy arranging Davey’s blankets and pillows into a pile for them to lean against. “It’s a good time, yeah.”

Davey grinned. “Found it!” He joined Jack on the pile and situated the laptop across their laps. “Do you want subtitles or no?”

“Either is fine with me.” Jack reclined back against the pile of pillows, laying one arm out across the top of it so when Davey leaned back his arm slipped right onto his shoulders. Davey turned on the subtitles and pressed play, then curled into Jack’s side, hooking his leg over one of Jack’s and resting his hand on Jack’s chest. A smile immediately bloomed across Jack’s face, and he placed his free hand over Davey’s. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this comfortable. Just being with Davey, no pressing concerns, no plans, just being together. Jack sighed contentedly and pressed a kiss into the top of his head.

The movie played. Davey groaned miserably at every stupid trope, complaining that, “If you played your drinking game to this, you’d be hammered in five minutes.”

He nodded sagely. “Yeah, it was pretty rough...”

They lapsed back into comfortable silence. After ten minutes or so, Jack realized that Davey was looking at him instead of the screen. He turned his gaze towards him, the corner of his mouth twisting upwards. “What?”

Davey sighed heavily. “You’re really, really, and I mean  _ really fucking _ attractive.”

Jack laughed. “Well, thank you. Y’know, you’re not too bad yourself.” He leaned over a little to brush his lips against Davey’s forehead, still smiling.

Davey placed his hand on the back of Jack’s neck to pull him down for a real kiss, instead. Only vaguely surprised, Jack obliged happily, moving his lips gently against Davey’s.

Davey trailed his hand back down to Jack’s chest, then pushed back to look at him. “How did I get so lucky?” he asked breathlessly, shaking his head slightly.

“I wouldn’t call it luck so much as bad judgement,” Jack teased. “Giving out personal information to random men in the dining hall is a dangerous game.”

“That just means I got  _ extra _ lucky you’re not a murderer.”

Jack momentarily stiffened uncomfortably. Davey was obviously joking. Probably didn’t even think about what he said. He forced himself to relax, and to smile. “Yeah, good thing...”

Davey kissed him again, having completely forgotten about the movie, it would seem...or maybe intentionally ignoring it. Jack tightened his arm around Davey’s shoulders, kissing back firmly but gently.

“Hey, Jacky?” Davey’s lips brushed against Jack’s as he spoke.

“Yeah, Dave?” He shifted back the tiniest bit so he could meet his eyes.

“I hate this movie.”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, it's a lot less fun sober.”

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.” Davey closed his laptop and tossed it gently, like a frisbee, to the foot of the bed.

“So wh—mmm.” Jack’s words were muffled into a hum as Davey started kissing him yet again, harder this time. He put a hand on his shoulder, sitting up a little straighter as he kissed back, while Davey snaked his arms around Jack’s waist and held on tight, pulling them closer together. Jack gently ran his hand across the back of Davey’s shoulder to rest at the base of his neck as his lips worked against his firmly, but gently.

Davey shifted around so he was on Jack’s lap. He always seemed to end up there. Jack was a little surprised, and leaned back, pulling his mouth away from his. Davey wasn’t much of an aggressor, especially in this area, and his boldness was somewhat startling. Especially considering…

Davey placed his hand gently on Jack’s cheek. “Is this okay?”

“Wh—yeah, I’m fine, I’m just...are  _ you _ okay?” Jack couldn’t help but worry. What if he was only doing this cause he thought Jack wanted it? Or expected it, even?

But Davey nodded resolutely. “Yes.”

He placed his hands solidly on the sides of Davey’s shoulders. “You know you don’t have to, right? I’m not  _ expecting _ you t—“

“ _ I know _ , Jack,” Davey said. “I don’t expect anything from you either, but—”

“I’m being serious Davey. If you don’t want—”

“Do you?”

Jack paused a beat, struggling for what to say. If he said ‘no’, that would be a lie, and Davey would be hurt. But if he said yes...

He sighed. “I do want this, okay? I want  _ you _ . But it don’t matter what I want if you don’t want it too.”

Davey stared at him. He looked...unamused. “I invited you to spend the night in my dorm room while my roommates are out of town. I am literally straddling you as we speak.”

Jack flushed, embarrassed. “I didn’t wanna assume...” he grumbled.

“I could write up a contract, if you want. Sign it in my blood.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.” He hooked a hand around the back of Davey’s neck and pulled him down as he turned his face up to meet him. Keeping it slow, but deep, Jack tried his best to put everything he felt for Davey in that kiss. He liked him, he  _ loved _ him, and he was so relieved that he actually trusted him.

Davey kissed him back desperately, like he needed it, like he needed  _ Jack _ . This was a side of Davey the world didn’t see—that, presumably, only Jack got to see. Davey may have been raised to be modest and respectable and proper, but he was still just a twenty-year-old guy, and he clearly wanted Jack as much as Jack wanted him.

Jack wrapped his arms around David’s hips, holding him tightly against him as the kiss became harder, hungrier. Davey buried his fingers in Jack’s hair and pulled slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to tilt Jack’s head back a little more and give him better access to his mouth.

Jack tugged at the bottom of Davey’s shirt, untucking it, and nipped experimentally at his bottom lip. Davey whimpered and tightened his grip in Jack’s hair. Jack rolled Davey’s lip between his teeth, slipping his hands beneath Davey’s shirt and sliding them up his back, then back down his sides to settle just above his hips.

“Jesus Christ...” Davey breathed.

Jack chuckled. “Aren’t you Jewish?”

“Yes, very. Do you know how desperate you have to be to pray to someone else’s god?”

His eyes widened and he burst into laughter. “That bad, huh?”

Davey leaned his forehead against Jack’s. “Oh, shut your stupid, sexy mouth.”

“Oh, well, sweetheart, it’s not gonna be fun for anyone if I do that.”

Davey started several sentences at the same time. None of them make it past the first syllable.

Jack laughed. “How’s about I just keep it busy, ‘stead of shutting it, huh?” He smirked.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Davey whined. “I think you want me to die.”

“What on earth would make you say that?” Jack teased, momentarily hooking a finger into the waistline of Davey’s jeans and tugging.

Davey responded by pulling Jack’s hair.

Jack gasped as his head tilted back, and a crooked smile crept onto his face as he looked up at Davey. The grip of his one hand tightened on his hip, and the other slid down to rest on his thigh. “Well that wasn’t very polite.”

“You never want me to be polite,” Davey said, brushing his lips over Jack’s jaw as he spoke. “You always tell me to be honest.”

Jack tilted his head a little further to allow him easier access and smoothed circles with his thumb over Davey’s hip. “I’m not sure what would count as ‘honest’ in this situation.”

Davey released Jack’s hair and tugged at the hem of his t-shirt instead. “Honestly, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Funny, I was gonna say the same about you.” Jack winked.

Davey rolled his eyes and huffed, sitting back just enough to start unbuttoning his shirt.

A huge grin bloomed across Jack’s face, and he took the opportunity to grab the bottom of his own shirt and pull it over his head.

Davey winced. “Not fair. You’re hot.”

Jack wrinkled his nose, smirking and quickly pulled a mockery of concern into his face. “Oh, I’m sorry, d’you want me to...?” He started putting his arms back into the T-shirt.

Davey snatched it out of his hands and threw it across the room.

Jack laughed. “Guess not.” He leaned back a little, bracing his arms behind him and bit his lip, slowly raking his eyes up and down Davey’s torso as he continued unbuttoning his shirt.

Davey’s cheeks turned bright red, and he glanced away.

“Ya got a problem, Davey?” He smirked.

Davey grumbled nonsense as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders.

The smirk faded and Jack’s eyes got a little rounder as he exhaled a quiet, “Wow...”

Davey glanced up at him. “What?”

Another exhale that was half laugh and he sat up again, moving his hands to lightly trail across Davey’s sides. “You’re...fuck.” The second word was breathless, and he laughed. “You’re beautiful, Davey.”

Davey looked away again and smiled shyly. “Shut up.”

“Well, I’m gonna keep tellin’ you how pretty you are unless you give my mouth somethin’ better to do.”

Davey laughed. “Why are you like this?”

Jack put a hand to his chest like a proper Southern lady when commenting on how marvelous hot the day is. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Idiot,” Davey grumbled, still smiling. He placed his hands on Jack’s shoulders and shoved him back onto the pillows, then kissed him again.

Jack laughed as he was pushed, and brought his hands up to tangle in Davey’s hair.

If someone had told him, as he and Crutchie walked into the dining hall for lunch on that fateful day in February, that he was going to meet the  _ prettiest _ man in existence, fall in love with him, and end up pinned to his bed within the span of six weeks, he probably would have told them to lay off the crack. Yet, there he was, and son of a bitch, he never wanted to be anywhere else ever again.

Jack smiled against Davey’s lips, sliding his arms down to wrap tight around his hips and pull him impossibly closer. Davey moaned softly and slid his hands up to the sides of Jack’s face. Jack loosened his arms, moving his hands to Davey’s hips. He nipped at Davey’s lip again, at the same time gripping tightly and dragging his hips against him. Davey’s breath stuttered to a complete stop. He froze and let Jack move him.

When he stopped breathing, Jack paused, and spoke quietly. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” Davey nodded quickly. “This is good. I like this.”

Jack smiled breathlessly, relieved, and so, so in love. He sat slightly straighter so he could reach Davey’s mouth, and kissed him deeply as he began to move his hips again, grinding them against his own. Davey gasped, and his hands fell to Jack’s shoulders, where he gripped so tight Jack worried he might have bruises in the shape of Davey’s hands. He let out a breathless laugh deep in his throat, and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Davey’s shoulder. He began to oh so slightly roll his hips up to meet Davey’s, as he continued moving him.

“Okay.” Davey smacked weakly at Jack’s shoulder. “Too many clothes.”

Jack paused his movements, amused. “On me, or you?”

“Both.” Davey smirked. “Mostly you.”

“Well there’s not much I can do with you sitting on me, sweetheart.”

Davey whined and rolled off Jack. Jack snickered, unbuttoning his jeans and wriggling out of them, chucking them in the same direction that his T-shirt had been thrown so long ago. Left kneeling on the bed in just a pair of navy blue boxers, he looked over at Davey expectantly.

Davey had that deer-in-the-headlights look again. “Fuck.”

“From what I’m understanding that’s the goal, yeah.” He glanced down at Davey’s pants, and then back up to his face. “Though that’s gonna be kinda hard if you keep your pants on.”

Davey held a hand up. “Give me a second. You’re gorgeous, and I need a moment.”

Jack smiled and nodded, shifting to settle against the pillows again. “Take your time, I don’t wanna rush anything.”

Davey climbed forward to kiss Jack quickly before climbing off the bed to add his pants to the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor. Jack sat up again, turning sideways so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, and took a second to just stare.

“You sure you’re real?” he asked.

Davey shrugged. “I suppose I could be a very strange hallucination.”

He shook his head. “No way in hell I could ever dream up somethin’ like you.”

“Flirt.” Davey chucked his pants at Jack instead of on the floor.

Jack laughed, catching them and throwing them right back. “Well, what else am I supposed to do with a very handsome, mostly naked man in front of me?” He grinned mischievously.

As much as he wanted this—dear  _ god _ how he wanted this—Jack couldn’t help but be a little hesitant. After everything Davey had told him, and after everything he had told Davey, a part of him was still afraid that Davey didn’t actually want him.

“What are you thinking?” Davey asked, frowning. He gestured towards Jack’s face. “You’re doing that thing with your eyes like you’re thinking.”

“‘That thing with my eyes like I’m thinking’?” Jack laughed.

“They unfocus,” Davey explained. “And, if you’re smiling, it doesn’t reach your eyes anymore. You’re thinking.”

Another laugh. “Can’t get anything past you, huh?” Jack stood up and took a few steps towards Davey, reaching out for his hand. “It’s nothing, I promise.”

Davey smiled, placing his hand in Jack’s like it belonged there. “Nope. You do a different thing with your eyes, when you’re thinking about nothing.”

Jack smiled and exhaled shortly, baffled and amused. He took Davey’s other hand as well. “Do you really pay that much attention to my eyes?”

“Of course,” Davey said softly, stepping a little closer to Jack.

He let go of his hands and brought his own up to cup Davey’s face. Jack leaned in, kissing him gently. “You’re amazing,” he said softly, only barely pulling away.

“And you—” Davey tapped the tip of Jack’s nose with his index finger. “—are changing the subject. Something’s bothering you. What is it?”

Jack whined, deflating and shying away in that ridiculous way that only Jack Kelly can.

“Jack?” Davey’s expression changed to one of concern. He grabbed Jack’s wrist to keep him from going too far.

Jack faced him again. “I’m scared, Davey.” He lifted his arm, gesturing briefly at nothing before dropping it again. “I know you say it’s okay and you want this and everything. But...” He groaned. “With everything I told you, and everything you told me, I just—”

Davey raised Jack’s hand and pressed a kiss into his palm, and the simple action derailed Jack’s train of thought. Davey looked at Jack expectantly for him to continue. After a rather long pause, Jack opened his mouth to tell the boy in front of him that he loved him. But the words didn’t come out. He tried again, and it still didn’t happen, so instead, he stepped in and kissed him. Davey made a brief noise of surprise before kissing back, laying his arms across Jack’s shoulders and relaxing into his touch. Jack placed his hands on Davey’s hips and pulled him flush against him before sliding his hands up his bare sides and across his back, exploring this so far uncharted territory. He kissed him deeply and adoringly, pouring those words he couldn’t say into his movements. Davey stroked Jack’s hair with one hand. The other fell between them to rest on Jack’s chest. The corners of his lips turned up slightly, and he hummed happily into the kiss. This was different than before—much easier and more relaxed, more honest.

After a long moment, Jack broke the kiss, only shifting back enough that he could speak, his lips brushing over Davey’s as he did so. “I know I’m ruining the atmosphere or whatever but I  _ gotta _ ask one more time...this is okay? You want this?”

Davey laughed lightly. “ _ Yes _ , Jacky. If you want me, I’m yours.”

A slow smile spread across Jack’s face. “Good.” He curled his arms around him tightly, kissing him again. A little more insistent this time.

Terrifying though it was, Jack Kelly and Davey Jacobs just went together. Jack, like the authors of a catastrophic fan fiction that was not supposed to get this far out of hand, was entirely aware that what they had going on was the opposite of slow burn. They got on like a grease fire—a very fast, painful burn that was likely to leave a nasty scar. At the moment, however, Jack couldn’t bring himself to give a single shit. At the moment, all of Jack’s brain cells were bouncing around in his head like the old DVD video logo, and the only thought that would register was how  _ right _ it felt to be with this beautiful boy in his arms.

Davey buried his face in the side of Jack’s neck. “What do you want?” he asked breathlessly.

“I—fuck I want  _ you _ Dave. I want you.” It was more a sustained exhale than proper talking, but it got the point across.

Davey chuckled. “You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, sweetheart.”

In an instant, Jack had caught ahold of his shoulders, and forced him a couple steps backwards, slamming him against the side of one of the standing wardrobes in the dorm. His entire body pressed up against Davey’s, and he turned his head so his lips brushed his ear as he spoke. “I want  _ you _ . All of you. Every goddamn bit.”

Davey moaned, letting his head fall back against the dresser and his eyes fall closed. Ducking down, Jack attached his lips to the pulse point on his neck, pressing sharp kisses, sucking, and just barely grazing his skin with his teeth. He paid special attention to every tiny sound Davey made, figuring out what he liked. It didn’t take him long to realize Davey didn’t like it very rough, but a little bit of dominance was good. He wanted someone to take care of him. Jack could do that.

Mouthing his way along his collar bone, he slid his leg between Davey’s and gently pressed against him. Davey let out a ragged breath. He gripped Jack’s bicep hard with one hand while the other fisted in his hair. Getting ahold of his hips, Jack shifted back half a step and moved sideways, pulling Davey with him. A few stumbled steps, and he gently shoved him. The backs of Davey’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and he sat down. He reached out to grab Jack’s wrists, pulling him along and down for another kiss.

For once, in a complete abandonment of tradition, Jack ended up on Davey’s lap, nearly knocking him over as they collided. Davey laughed and lay back, pulling Jack down on top of him. Bracing his forearms on either side of Davey’s head, Jack pressed another kiss to his lips, still full of adoration, and unspoken words. He just hoped Davey could feel it. Davey needed to know how incredibly special he was.  _ Jack _ needed Davey to know.

Davey’s fingers trailed lightly over Jack’s shoulder blades, all the way down to his lower back, where Davey flattened his palms to press them closer together. Happy to oblige, Jack ground his hips down against his, letting out a low groan as he did so, dropping his head into Davey’s shoulder.

“Jacky?” Davey murmured.

Jack immediately froze, lifting his head to meet Davey’s eyes. “Yeah? You okay?” He struggled to keep his voice even.

“Jack Kelly, I swear to god—” Davey laughed. He opened his mouth to say something else, then faltered. He chewed on his bottom lip in thought. Gently brushing a hand over Jack’s cheek.

Jack swallowed the lump in his throat. He was fine. Davey was fine. This was okay. “What?”

Davey smiled softly. “Stop thinking so much.”

He sputtered uselessly, and then dropped his head into his shoulder again, muttering muffled against his skin. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, baby?”

“Overthinking, I guess?”

Davey stroked his hair. “Do you want to stop?”

Jack pushed himself back up on his forearms, meeting Davey’s eyes. “Do you?”

“Jack.” Davey pushed himself up on his elbows. “I will tell you if I want to stop, okay?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.” He laughed sheepishly. “I’m not usually like this, I promise.”

Davey met his eyes intently. “Do you want to stop?” he asked again.

“Not even a little.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”


	22. Don't You Know That We's a Family? Would I Let You Down? Probably.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack scares the shit out of Crutchie and promptly regrets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, we couldn't let things go well for our boys for TOO long.

At about 7:42, on the last Sunday of spring break, Jack Kelly woke with a start. His breath quickened, and there was a moment of panic as the haze of his dream hadn’t yet lifted and he didn’t recognize where he was. Nightmares were nothing new, but that didn’t make them any less awful.

It took a moment, as his eyes darted around the room, for him to register the presence next to him. Davey was pressed into his side, with his head resting in the crook of Jack’s shoulder, and his arm flopped over his chest, sleeping peacefully. With a breath of relief, Jack remembered that he was in Davey’s dorm. Then Jack remembered  _ why _ he was in Davey’s dorm, and he bit back a smile.

With a resigned sigh, Jack reached carefully over Davey towards the nightstand, reaching for his phone. He knew he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep, so he might as well find something to keep himself occupied until Davey woke up. He winced at the all too bright, dimmest available light setting as he clicked his screen on. He winced even harder when he registered eight missed calls and almost thirty texts messages from ‘leg emoji’.

“ _ What time are you going to be home? _ ”

“ _ Hello? Earth to Jack? _ ”

Two missed calls.

“ _ I know your phone’s not dead. It isn’t going straight to voicemail. _ ”

One missed call.

“ _ Jacob Francis Kelly I stg _ .”

“ _ Come on, asshole, I can’t sleep if I don’t know where you are _ .”

“ _ Are you dead? _ ”

One missed call.

“ _ Jack, don’t you fucking do this to me again. _ ”

“ _ Don’t you fucking dare. _ ”

_ “I hate you _ .”

One missed call.

“ _ I’m giving you until noon tomorrow, then I’m calling the cops _ .”

“Shit shit shit shit,” he muttered under his breath, attempting to extract himself from the bed without waking Davey. He failed.

“Jack?” Davey murmured sleepily. Did he have to be so goddamned cute, all bleary-eyed with messy hair? “What’s the matter?”

Jack pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. I gotta call Crutchie. It’s fine, go on back to sleep.” Jack slid out of bed, moving towards the door.

The wrath of Charlie “Crutchie” Morris was seldom seen, even more seldom survived. Jack almost considered staging a kidnapping to take the blame off himself. He stepped out into the hallway and took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. Hesitantly, he hit Crutchie’s contact, and pressed ‘call’.

He barely had time to register the phone ringing before Crutchie answered, not with a greeting, but with, “You had better be in the hospital or I’m going to put you there.”

Jack groaned, turning to softly and repeatedly hit his forehead on the wall. “I’m sorry. Don’t kill me.”

“Where the  _ fuck _ are you?”

“At Davey’s dorm...” Jack felt ashamed, and guilty. He had entirely forgotten about Crutchie. The two of them always texted back and forth multiple times a day, and they  _ always _ told the other if they weren’t going to be home until late, or at all.

“Oh. Mmhm. Okay.” Only Jack could have noticed the thinly veiled rage beneath Crutchie’s bright voice. “His roommates there? Think they’ll push you down the stairs for me?”

“No...Crutchie I’m real sorry. I know—”

“Do your old anxiety pills make you, like, vibrate, or did I take too many?”

“ _ What!? _ ” Unintentionally slamming the door, Jack crashed back into the dorm, frantically scrambling to get his clothes. “Why the  _ fuck _ would you take someone else’s medication!?”

Davey was definitely awake now, sitting up and staring at Jack with wide eyes.

“It’s just alprazolam,” Crutchie said over the phone, “and you haven’t taken it in years.”

“I am not concerned about not having enough for myself. Jesus Christ, Crutchie, you can’t do that! They had me on a high dose; your system isn’t used to it!” Jack managed to get his pants buttoned, grabbed his shirt, and bolted out the door. He didn’t know enough about medication to know what was and wasn’t actually dangerous, but this was Crutchie, and even the possibility was terrifying.

“Like I said, alprazolam. Besides, I think I’m vibrating because my muscles have developed sentience and a desire for your blood. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me!?” Jack slowed to a furious walk upon reaching the stairwell. “I’m not the one taking drugs that aren’t mine! I shoulda called or somethin’, I know, and I’m sorry! I was with Davey and things got a little out of hand, I wasn’t exactly thinking straight!” He had, in fact, been thinking very gay.

“Well, tell Davey he can fucking keep you. I came to terms with your new life as a sex slave in Europe about two hours ago.”

“Too late; I’m already on my way home.”

“Oh, go to hell instead,” Crutchie snarled. “I’m going to help Lauren study for an exam.”

Walking quickly across campus, Jack threw his hands up in baffled irritation before bringing the phone back to his ear. “I don’t know what you want from me, Crutchie! I know I fucked up and I shoulda let you know where I was but—”

“Yeah, you should have.” Crutchie’s voice was like ice. “But that would have involved thinking about something other than Jack Kelly, and we couldn’t have that, could we?”

“That’s not fair. You  _ know _ I—my whole fucking life I—”

On the other end of the line, Jack heard a door slam.

“Your whole fucking life, you’ve been  _ running! _ ” Crutchie shouted. “Disappearing! How was I supposed to know this time was any different? I’ve been up all night, losing my mind, not knowing if you’re hurt or in jail or just fucking  _ leaving _ again!”

“It ain’t your job to worry!” Jack shouted. He knew he was being entirely unreasonable, Crutchie had every right to be angry. He regretted each word before it even left his mouth, but somehow he couldn’t stop. “You don’t gotta keep tabs on me twenty-four hours a day! You’re not my parole officer, you’re not my  _ dad _ , you’re my fucking roommate. You’re my friend. It ain’t a crime to sleep with my boyfriend and not tell people about it.”

Crutchie laughed humorlessly, the kind of laugh you utter when you’re out of fucks to give. “You’re right, Jack. I’m not your dad. We’re not even a fucking family, and we’re never gonna be, because neither of us know how.”

Jack actually stopped walking, stunned. Where a second ago he couldn’t stop the words, now he couldn’t force a single one past his lips.

The line went dead without another word spoken between the two of them.

Jack yelled in wordless rage, kicking an empty bottle that someone had left two feet from a garbage can. He turned, seething, curling his fingers ineffectually as he took a step first one way, and then the other. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to scream. Backing up till he hit a nearby street light post, he sat down on the sidewalk, hard, and pressed his face into his hands as tears began to fall.

He wasn’t angry. Not really. He was mad at himself for letting Crutchie down, for scaring him. But moreover he was hurt. That Crutchie would say that, that he would even  _ think _ it, Jack couldn’t begin to understand. Everything he’d done, everything they’d gone through, everything they’d helped each other heal from. If that wasn’t family, what was?

Jack didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go to the apartment, he couldn’t handle the way Crutchie would look at him, not right now. He couldn’t go back to Davey’s dorm, either. That would be disappearing again. He wiped a trail of hot, angry tears off his cheek, but they didn’t stop coming. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. His whole fucking life wasn’t fair.

Jack had actually been starting to think he was coming out of the woods. He and Crutchie were able to make rent on time—mostly—and though the apartment in its entirety was smaller than some of NYU’s classrooms, it was comfortable, it almost felt like a home. He had friends,  _ proper _ friends, and he had Davey. How he managed  _ that _ , Jack would never understand, but he’d done it, and he had him, and he would rather rip his own leg off than let him go. Things were starting to be okay, hell, things were starting to be  _ good _ . So of course, right on schedule, he fucked up. He hurt someone.

Jack leaned his head back against the light post, struggling to breathe properly around the quiet sobs that he couldn’t manage to keep down. He had to do something to fix this. He would rather lose a leg than lose Davey, for sure, but Crutchie? Losing Crutchie would be worse than dying.

Monday night, over twenty-four hours had passed, and Crutchie still wouldn’t even look at Jack. When Jack finally managed to get himself up and into the apartment, he had been dreading the way he was sure Crutchie would look at him, but this was way worse. Jack had apologized, Jack had reasoned, Jack had pleaded, and nothing. It was as if he wasn’t even there. He had skipped his last class of the day to run home and make Crutchie’s favorite meal—meatloaf with mashed potatoes, chili sauce, and cheese baked right on top of it—leaving it with an apology note in the fridge before his shift at the auto shop, but when he came home, it was untouched, and there was a cereal bowl in the sink.

Jack started towards the bedroom, but stopped as soon as his fingertips brushed the door handle. After a moment of quiet deliberation, he decided to resign himself to the couch, again. Luckily, he had a pair of sweatpants in the laundry basket in the bathroom. Jack peeled off his work uniform, and scrubbed the motor oil off his hands and face before slipping on the sweatpants and returning to the main room. He sat down on the couch and looked at his phone. Ten-twenty-seven. He cringed at the lateness, but he had to hear his voice, had to have something to ground him, or he was going to fall apart again. Opening his recent calls, he hit Davey’s name, silently praying that he wouldn’t already be asleep.

The phone rang two and a half times before he answered, “Hey, Jacky. What’s up?”

Jack deflated in relief, sagging back into the couch. “Hi, Dave...”

There was a brief pause, and the sound of a door opening and closing softly. “How are things?” Davey asked tentatively.

Jack sighed heavily, sitting forward again, resting his forearms on his knees. “He still won’t talk to me. Won’t even  _ look _ at me. I made his favorite dinner and he pretended it wasn’t even there.” He sighed again, wiping a hand down his face. “I fucked up, Dave. He hasn’t been mad like this in years.”

“I’m so sorry, Jacky.”

He gestured helplessly. “It’s my own damn fault.”

“I just feel bad, since...” The way Davey’s voice echoed slightly made it sound like he was in the stairwell. “Well, I sort of had a little bit to do with it, didn’t I?”

Jack shook his head. “You are one hell of a distraction, I’ll give you that, but this one’s on me. Ain’t missed a call from Crutchie in three years. I managed to miss eight.

Another brief pause. “What do you need?”

“A hug.” He replied miserably.

“Okay. I’m coming to hug you.”

“Wh—no,” Jack sat up. “I uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, babe...”

“And why not?” Davey snapped. “Because Crutchie’s mad? Fuck that. You’re my person, and you need a hug.”

Jack shook his head again, putting his face into his hands. “That’s really sweet, babe, but I really think it’d be better to...not...”

Davey huffed. “Fine. Okay. You know the situation better than I do.”

“I’m sorry...”

“You have no reason to be sorry for me.”

Jack was quiet for a bit, simply finding comfort in the fact that, at least to a small degree, Davey was there.

“Has this ever happened before?” Davey asked quietly. “You and Crutchie...”

Jack sighed, turning it into words halfway through. “Yeah. Once or twice...”

“And he came around those times, too.”

“I mean, yeah, but the other times I had a better excuse than ‘my boyfriend is super pretty and I forgot anything else exists’.”

Davey snorted.

“I’m not wrong!” Jack grumbled. “You’re very pretty.”

“I’m not that pretty,” Davey protested, “and if anyone was forgetting anything else exists, it was me.”

“Hey stop stealing my lines. Get your own.”

“I will steal all your things. Starting with your hoodies.”

A tiny smile pricked at the corners of Jack’s mouth for the first time all day. “Adorable.”

“They’re comfortable, and I don’t own any.”

“How the hell do you not own any hoodies? I have like, three.”

“I needed a knight in soft, hooded armor to rescue me and show me the error of my ways,” Davey said, voice completely even and serious.

Jack snorted in laughter. “Yeah okay.”

“Jack, you know I—” Davey sighed. “I care a lot about you, right?”

Jack exhaled slowly, smiling a tiny bit again. “Yeah, I know...”

The door to the bedroom opened suddenly, and Crutchie emerged. Still not looking at Jack, he made his way to the bathroom, leaning on the wall.

Jack dropped his voice lower, speaking quickly. “Davey, I gotta go. I’ll text you in a bit.”

Davey, ever the smart one, got the hint. “Okay, Jacky. Good luck.”

Jack hung up, glanced nervously towards the bathroom door, and started fidgeting, keeping his eyes fixed on his hands. When Crutchie emerged a minute later, he was still doing his damndest not to make eye contact.

“Crutchie...” Jack was the very picture of dejection.

Crutchie hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing on his way back to bed.

Jack stood up. “Crutchie,  _ please _ .”

Reluctantly, Crutchie stopped in the doorway. Jack could barely make out his mumbled words, but as far as he could tell, they were, “What do you want?”

“I wanna fix this. What do I do?” He took a tentative step forward. “I fucked up, an’ I know it. I’d take it back, but I can’t. What  _ can _ I do?”

Crutchie turned sideways and leaned his back against the doorframe, still not looking at Jack, but at least his back wasn’t to him anymore. “You can give me time to forget what it feels like to not know where you are or if you’re okay, thinking something must have happened because you  _ always _ text me back, or call me back, or have someone else do it if your phone died.” He looked at Jack for the first time in two days, and Jack had no choice but to face the toll this all had taken on him. His brown eyes were rimmed in red. He slouched like he was exhausted, even though Jack had barely seen him out of bed. “Do you have any idea what that’s like?” he asked sharply. “I know  _ I’ve _ never done that to you.”

Jack opened his mouth, ready to offer up the list of awful things he  _ had _ experienced, but he stopped. That wasn’t anywhere near the point right now. He closed his mouth again, and shook his head. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I know intentions don’t mean shit, but I never meant to hurt you. I wasn’t thinking. And that ain’t an excuse, it’s another tic on the shit list, I know. I just—” he sighed, and looked down, unable to stand seeing Crutchie hurting when he knew it was his fault. “I know you said we ain’t family, but ya gotta know how lost I’d be without you. You’re my one thing, Crutchie. You’re all I got.”

“That’s not true,” Crutchie grumbled. “You got the guys. You got Davey. Hell, Chelsea and Lauren’d jump off a building for ya’.”

Jack shook his head resolutely. “Not even close to the same. Dont matter what they think or what they’d do. You—” he sighed, looking up at Crutchie again, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “You  _ know _ you’re different, Crutchie. You’re...you’re always.”

Crutchie frowned and looked away. The gesture almost looked like a surrender.

Jack wrung his hands, unable to stand still, but too scared to try to approach him. “I’m being serious. I know we’re all mushy and dumb all the time and I say I love you and everyone thinks we’re secretly married or whatever but...” He cringed, twisting his upper body as if he could wring the words out of himself like water from a towel. “Man, you  _ gotta _ know. Fourteen years now, you been everything. You’re what’s kept my head above water. You’re what’s kept me from completely falling apart. You’re what’s kept me  _ alive _ this long. You can’t tell me that ain’t...something. If not family, fine, but  _ something _ .”

Crutchie let out a laugh that almost sounded real and smiled sadly. “Yeah, we’re  _ something _ , alright.”

Jack completely deflated, sitting back down on the couch and dropping his head forward, leaning his forearms on his knees and staring blindly at the ground. “Alright...I’ll stop bugging you. I’m sorry.”

Crutchie lingered in the doorway for another minute, then, “I’m going to bed.”

Jack nodded mutely, unable to raise his eyes from the floor.

Then, Crutchie surprised him. “I love you.”

He looked up at him quickly, praying that the tears brimming in his eyes would stay put. “I love you too, Crutchie...”

Crutchie disappeared behind the closing bedroom door, leaving Jack alone again.

He took a deep, shaky breath, and jerked his leg backwards, slamming his heel into the base of the couch. He screwed his eyes tight shut, leaning forward with his forearms braced on his legs, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

He said he needed time. Jack could give him time. He’d do it, but he wouldn’t like it.

With another shaky breath, Jack straightened up, swung his legs up onto the couch and lay down, resting his head on the wide, plush arm of the ratty old couch. He typed out a quick message to Davey, set his alarm for the morning, and tried his best to fall asleep.

You never realize how noticeable a small sound is till it’s gone. Being so used to the sound of Crutchie’s breathing, and occasional muttering in his sleep, the silence of the living room was deafening.

Usually, when Jack had trouble sleeping—if he was upset, had a nightmare, or was just plain restless—he would go crawl into Crutchie’s bed, and the familiarity of Crutchie was enough to calm him, but he couldn’t do that this time, so he settled for staring at the closed bedroom door until he couldn’t hold his eyes open anymore, and slipped into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't take meds that ain't yours, kids.


	23. Crutchie Has a Long Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crutchie finally talks to Jack. It's not what Jack expected.

Thursday had been a long, boring, painful day. Les had some sort of school thing going on that family was invited to, so Davey was upstate until the next morning. Jack had minorly set his sleeve on fire at the diner, and Tuesday’s and Thursday’s were lecture day, so four hours of boring. Once he got home, Jack grabbed a bag of white cheddar popcorn, flopped onto the couch, and occupied the rest of his evening with playing through The Last of Us for the millionth time.

He glanced at his beat up old watch, frowning a little. It was nine fifty-three, and Crutchie—who hadn’t been home when he arrived—wasn’t back yet. Jack let out a bitter huff of laughter. Turnabout is fair play.

He turned back to the game, getting lost in the game play until he got a text from Davey that read, “ _ Goodnight. I’ll text you in the morning _ .“

Jack overanalyzed the fact that Davey hadn’t texted “ _ Goodnight _ , Jacky” the way he usually did for a minute, before remembering that Davey’s family still thought he was a woman, and any one of them could look over Davey’s shoulder. He tapped out a reply, putting a kissy face emoji at the end, and dropped his phone back onto the couch next to him as he turned his attention back to the TV.

He frowned. Wait. He picked his phone up and checked the time. Eleven twenty-two?

Jack rolled his eyes heavily. He was concerned, of course, but that was probably the point. With a sigh, he started a new message to Crutchie. “ _ Hey, just checking, you okay? _ “

Before he could press send, though, the door opened, and Crutchie stumbled inside. He slammed the door behind him and fell back against it, breathing heavily. His eyes were the size of dinner plates as he ran his hand through his hair, intimately acquainting himself with the void.

Startled, Jack fumbled and dropped his phone. He looked over, concerned. “Whoa, you okay?”

“ _ I slept with Lauren. _ ”

Jack’s jaw dropped.

Crutchie dropped his cane and began limping in circles around the kitchen, wringing his hands together.

Jack stood and walked over to lean on the living room side of the counter, crossing his arms and resting them on top. “ _ How?  _ I mean, not  _ how _ , I understand how sex works. I mean like, what  _ happened? _ ”

“ _ I don’t know! _ ” Crutchie practically screamed, no doubt waking up at least one neighbor. “Her sorority sisters went out for some event, but she stayed behind to study for this exam she’s got tomorrow—” He stumbled and caught himself on the counter. “I was just helping her, like always, but... Oh my god, I’m  _ stupid _ .“

“You use a condom?” Jack asked.

“Wh—” Crutchie looked up at him. “ _ Yes _ , of course.”

He held his hands up placatingly. “Just making sure. You said ‘stupid,’ so I figured I should ask.”

“Jack, she’s a freshman,” Crutchie groaned. “She’s  _ eighteen _ . She was born in  _ 2001 _ , for Christ’s sake. I was her TA. The fact that I  _ touched _ her is stupid.”

“Okay, but why?”

Crutchie shot him a look, and he quickly put his hands up again.

“No, hang on. You  _ were _ her TA, but you aren’t now, and like you said, she’s eighteen. You’re not a criminal or anything, so, other than the fact that the last time you got some was three years ago, what’s the big deal?”

Crutchie paused, returning to the void for a moment before focusing again. “I don’t know, it’s just— It—” He sighed. “It is.”

“But you like her, right?”

“Shit, yeah.”

“So what’s the problem, then? You’re not her TA anymore, so there’s no creepy teacher-student shit.” He felt a twinge in his chest when he said that, but quickly moved on, pulling his focus back to the matter at hand. “She’s not underage, she fuckin’  _ adores _ you—”

“She’s  _ really _ good in bed,” Crutchie muttered, blushing hard.

Jack laughed. “Oh-ho! Even  _ less _ of a problem!”

Crutchie rolled his eyes. “ _ Jack _ .”

“What?”

“This is serious?”

“I’m bein’ serious!” Jack insisted. “I don’t see a problem here!”

Crutchie lowered himself to sit on the floor. “She’s just—” He flailed. “You know.”

Jack clambered up onto the counter, laying on his stomach and leaning his head over the edge so he could continue to look at Crutchie. “No, I don’t know.” He grinned, biting his lip to hold it to a reasonable level.

Jack also wanted to keep this conversation going as long as he could, afraid that, once they stopped, Crutchie would start ignoring him again.

Crutchie whined, “She’s so sweet and pretty and soft, and her hair smells like hibiscus, and she talks to me about science.”

Jack chuckled. “Sounds perfect.”

“What am I going to do?”

“Ask her out, I’d hope,” he replied matter of factly.

Crutchie grunted noncommittally.

Jack released a blustering exhale. “Wha’, you don’t want to?”

Crutchie sputtered. “I don’t know! I can’t think!”

“A’right, a’right.” Jack slid back off the counter and walked around to join Crutchie on the floor, leaning back on the cabinets next to him. “Let’s go. Talk it out. What’s in your head?”

There was a long pause, then Crutchie took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean it, Jack.”

He blinked. “You didn’t mean to sleep with her?”

Crutchie scoffed. “Well, no, but that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean what I said about us not being a family. That’s what’s in my head.”

“Oh.” Jack suddenly felt very small.

“I’m sorry,” Crutchie said. “I was just...really scared.”

Jack bit his lip. “I’m sorry too...”

Crutchie nodded, eyes on the floor. Jack didn’t know what to say, he kept looking at him and then looking away again.

Crutchie sniffed and wiped at his nose and eyes with his sleeve. “I don’t know how to get by without you, you know?”

Jack put his arm around Crutchie’s shoulders and pulled him into a tight, albeit rather sideways, hug. “Me too, kid.”

Crutchie laid his head on Jack’s shoulder. “Jack, I texted  _ everyone _ . No one knew where you were. I thought—”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Jack turned his head, pressing his lips against the top of Crutchie’s head. Jack honestly loved this boy more than anything in the world. He didn’t have a mother, he didn’t properly have a father, siblings, cousins, nothing. It was all Crutchie.

Crutchie sobbed and turned his head so his face was hidden in Jack’s shirt.

Shifting a little, Jack properly wrapped him up in a bear hug, pressing his face into his hair and hoping that the fluff would hide any evidence of tears.

“I  _ am _ gonna ask Laurie out, by the way,” Crutchie added softly.

Jack laughed, well, it was more of a sob. “Oh, thank god!”

“That would be the biggest dick move, if I didn’t,” Crutchie giggled. “‘Study buddies with benefits’.”

“Yiiiiikes.” Jack chuckled, straightening up and wiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

“Especially seeing as she...uh...had never done it before?”

“ _ What!? _ ”

“Yeah...add that to the list of reasons I never should have touched her.”

Jack sputtered. “That’s not any sort of reason.”

“It should have been  _ special _ , Jack,” Crutchie huffed, “not some spur-of-the-moment fling with a guy with only one working leg.”

“Just looking at her, you can tell she’s the perfectionist, romance movie type, so she’d for sure want her first time to be special,” Jack agreed. “You aren’t exactly rapist material, so I sincerely doubt that you were anything but her first choice.”

Crutchie choked. “Uh, thanks?”

“You’re a great guy, Crutchie. Y’gotta stop under-valuing yourself.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who almost ran from David Jacobs because he stole some coats as a kid.”

Jack let out a huff of amusement. “You know it ain’t about the coats.”

“Speaking of David,” Crutchie used the counter to haul himself to his feet,  _ finally _ smiling, “what the hell did he  _ do _ to you that you couldn’t text me back?”

Jack laughed, standing as well. “Well, it was mostly me that did the doing...”

Crutchie snickered. “Nice.”

Jack’s smile was a little strained, and he sighed. “Look man, I really am sorry.”

“I know. It—” Crutchie faltered. “Well, it’s not  _ okay _ . Don’t ever do it again.”

Jack shook his head. “I won’t, I swear. If I do, you can superglue my phone to my hand or something.”

Crutchie lightly punched his shoulder. “You won’t need a phone where you’ll be, if you do.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “You’ll get there before I do if you go around taking other people’s medication.”

The room fell back into the type of tense silence it had bathed in for the past several days, and Jack  _ almost _ regretted saying it. Almost.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding Crutchie’s eyes. “I know you were upset, and you had every right to be. But you can’t  _ do _ that.”

“Jack, we talked about this already. It’s not a big deal—”

“Yeah, how about you tell that to my mom.” Jack snapped flatly.

Crutchie’s face turned white as a sheet. “Shit...”

Jack pressed his lips into a tight line. “I don’t know enough about that shit to know what’s dangerous and what isn’t. All I know is my mom fucking died, an—”

“Jack, I didn’t—” Crutchie shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. I—”

“Yeah, but how was I supposed to know what was gonna happen?” Jack replied frantically, caught halfway between just general upset and angry again. “How many you took? If they could kill ya? Crutchie I’d rather  _ die _ than see you get hurt. If you were dead, I wouldn’t even last another hour.” He clamped his mouth shut again, blinking hard to keep the tears back.

Crutchie pulled him into a tight hug. “Jack, I would  _ never _ ...”

“You don’t know that though! What if they’d been stronger than you thought? What if you’d been allergic or somethin? You can’t just  _ take _ shit...” He was breathing hard, trying not to cry, and only failing a little bit.

Crutchie sighed heavily. “I know, Jack.”

“I know I scared you, but Christ, you can’t do that to me, Crutchie!”

“I know, Jack,” he repeated, “but...you know you can...Jack, I’m  _ pre-med _ .”

Jack opened and closed his mouth a few times before settling into huffy silence. “I toldja I wasn’t thinking...” He muttered.

Crutchie pulled away from him and placed his hands on his shoulders. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Jack sighed. “I’m sorry too. For all of it.” He gestured vaguely at nothing.

Crutchie nodded. He looked down at the floor. “We’re family, right?”

A tiny smile tugged at the edge of Jack’s mouth. “I’d like to think so.”

Crutchie let out a breath. “Good.”

After a beat of  _ comfortable _ silence, the type Jack wouldn’t have minded living in forever, Crutchie spoke up again, glancing towards the front door. “Would you mind bringing me my cane? It’s been a long day, and I don’t feel like hobbling back over there.”

Jack nodded. “For sure.” He walked over and picked it up off the floor, returning to the counter and holding it out to Crutchie.

“Thanks.” Crutchie took it and started towards the bedroom. “I’m sleeping in your bed,” he called back over his shoulder.

Jack laughed, getting a glass of water and following. “Okay, but if you hog the blankets again I’m gonna push you onto the floor.”

They would be okay. Jack and Crutchie would always be okay.


	24. Everyone Is Touchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crutchie goes on a date, and Davey's jealous streak gets the best of him.

“Al, for fucks sake, get out of the pantry! I already told you we only had the one bag of pretzels. It’s not my fault you have no self control,” Jack shouted from the armchair in response to the rustling noises from the kitchen.

“They were honey mustard, Jack!”

“Flavor has nothing to do with quantity, Al!”

“But it has  _ everything _ to do with self-control!”

David chuckled at the display. He wasn’t sure why Crutchie going on a date was cause for gathering in Jack’s living room and anxiously awaiting news, but there they were: Jack, Albert, Race, Chelsea, and David.

Jack suddenly flailed upright in his chair. “Okay, fellas, we got our first update!”

Before Crutchie left, Jack had insisted that he keep him informed as the night progressed, and apparently he was actually doing it.

Jack squinted at his phone. “Lauren looks very pretty,” he announced loudly.

“She’d better,” Chelsea scoffed, leaning over the back of the chair to see the message. “I spent, like, an hour on her makeup.”

Jack looked up and back at her. “Oh you did her makeup? Nice. I picked Crutchie’s outfit.” He raised his hand, expecting a fist bump.

Chelsea ruffled his hair instead. “Go team.”

David leaned into the arm of the couch, instinctively putting himself a little closer to Jack.

Albert wandered in from the kitchen with a box of Cheez-Its, and Race following close behind. Albert sat on the couch on the opposite end from David, and Race flopped across his lap. Laying with his head in Albert’s lap, Race poked Albert in the ribs and opened his mouth, demanding a Cheez-It. Albert absently obliged, not really paying attention as he found the remote and started flipping through channels on the TV.

Stretching his legs out, Race poked David in the side with his foot. “Hey.”

David jumped a little, surprised. “Hey?”

“How’s it goin?”

“Good.” _ It would be better if my objectively way-more-attractive-than-me classmate would stop touching my boyfriend, but I know that’s ridiculous, they’re friends, I don’t want to be that guy _ . “You?”

Race shrugged, poking the ‘more Cheez-Its, please’ button, which was cleverly disguised as Albert’s rib cage. “Eh, ‘s alright.”

David was trying to keep his attention on this conversation, but he couldn’t help noticing that now Chelsea was flat out playing with Jack’s hair, and Jack didn’t even seem to notice. Seriously, did the woman have no shame? Did  _ Jack? _

“So, Chelsea,” Albert said smoothly, “what’s your major?”

“English,” she replied, not so much as glancing at him.

David shifted uncomfortably, and Race shot him a knowing smirk.

“She smells nice!” Jack shouted suddenly. “She hugged him and she smells nice!”

At that, David chuckled. He didn’t really know Lauren, but Jack thought she was good for Crutchie, and his excitement was utterly adorable.

Not quite as adorable and way more sad was the way Race was looking up at Albert, hanging all over him and trying to get his attention. It reminded David just how lucky he was to have Jack—to be in love with someone who...well, to be with the person he loved. Whether or not Jack loved him back was another matter.

Of course, David realized, he didn’t actually have Jack’s attention, either.

Chelsea had made her way around to sit on the wide arm of the chair, leaning halfway onto Jack and looking at his phone with him as he read aloud the message he was typing back to Crutchie.

“‘You better behave yourself, young man. I’m not ready to be a grandfather.’”

Albert laughed out loud, and David forced himself to laugh, even though he had a hard time seeing the humor when all he could see was the very pretty young woman practically sitting on his boyfriend.

Jack shifted, slipping his phone into his pocket. “He told me to shut up, so I’m gonna give them a bit,” he snickered.

Chelsea pouted. “At least you’re  _ getting _ updates. Lauren promised me updates too.”

Her hand was on Jack’s shoulder, and her black nail-polish matched Jack’s shirt, and for some stupid reason, that kind of pissed David off.

“Yeah, well, Lauren’s your friend. Crutchie is my  _ son _ ,” he replied seriously.

“Also ‘is wife,” Race piped up.

Chelsea smacked Jack on the back of the head. “Lauren’s my  _ little _ , jackass.”

Jack laughed, and seeing that smile appear for someone else made David’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

He knew he was being stupid, that his jealousy was officially out of control and he needed to get a handle on it. He also knew that if he looked at Jack and Chelsea for one more second, he was going to throw up.

“I need to call my little brother,” he lied, standing up. “I’m just gonna step outside for a minute.”

He fled the apartment before anyone had time to respond, making a beeline for the stairwell. He went down half a flight, sat on the landing, and took a deep, cleansing breath.

About three minutes passed, and he heard the door to the stairwell open. “Everything alright Davey?”

“Hm?” He looked up, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. “Oh, yeah, fine, I’m fine.”

Ah, yes.  _ Very _ convincing, Davey.

Jack frowned, moving to sit down next to him. “What’s up?” He placed a hand on David’s leg, looking at him with concern.

David leaned into Jack, craving his touch, shamefully loving the fact that Jack had come looking for him. “Nothing,” he said. “Just needed some air, I guess.”

“Mm, so not nothin’.” Jack nudged him with his shoulder. “C’mon, whassamatter?”

David sighed. “Chelsea’s kinda touchy, huh?”

Jack half frowned, having to think about it for a second. “I guess, yeah. ‘S that bother you?”

“No.” Davey winced. Lying to Jack didn’t feel good. “Maybe?”

“So yes.”

“Yes,” Davey admitted, hanging his head like a kicked puppy.

Jack removed his hand from David’s leg and put his arm around him instead. “I’m sorry.” He kissed the side of his head. “I guess I don’t really notice that stuff. We’re all pretty touchy. The guys I mean. Like, just look at Albert and—okay, that’s a bad example, ‘cause Race is totally in love with Albert.”

David scoffed. That was a  _ perfect _ example, actually, since Chelsea clearly had a thing for Jack.

“Is it just her, or does it bug you with the guys, too? Cause like, cuddle puddles are sorta a thing...”

“It’s stupid either way, but...” David laid a hand over Jack’s. “I think it’s mostly her, because she’s into you, and she’s pretty and smart and...” He stopped short of  _ all the things you say you love about me, with none of the issues _ .

“Well yeah, sure, but she’s not you.” Jack shrugged, absently fiddling with David’s fingers.

David laid his head on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being ridiculous.”

Jack shook his head and rested his cheek on David’s head. “Nah; if it bugs you, it bugs you.”

“That’s not fair to you.”

He laughed. “I’m not exactly delighted by Chelsea hangin’ off me, either. The guys, I really can’t promise anything, it’s like herding cats.” He leaned away a little so he could look at him. “I promise I don’t wanna fuck any of ‘em, though, if that helps.”

David smiled and laughed, even if that sick, jealous feeling hadn’t quite dissipated. He didn’t  _ own _ Jack. No one ever would.

“I guess I  _ am _ glad to hear that,” he said, turning his attention to Jack’s hand in his.

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, that’s all you babe, don’t worry.”

“Good.” David smiled innocently. “Because the next time I get you alone, I’m going to make you forget Chelsea’s name.”

Jack laughed, much the way one would when encountering a smart girl. “Hate to break it to you babe, but we’re alone right now, and I know you wouldn’t fuck me in a stairwell.”

“That’s why I said ‘next time’.” David kissed Jack’s cheek and stood up. “Al’s probably eating all your food.”

Jack stood as well. “We didn’t have much to begin with, so it wouldn’t be a huge loss.”

David looked at Jack, his boyfriend— _ his _ boyfriend, not Chelsea’s or Katherine’s or anyone else’s. He had stood up with the intention of returning to the apartment, but suddenly found that he didn’t want to. He whined and glommed onto Jack instead.

Jack sputtered, laughing. “Whataya doin’ babe?”

“I’m insecure.”

He wrapped his arms tight around him. “Well, you shouldn’t be. Not about us. You got me caught, hook, line, and sinker.”

“For sure?”

“For sure.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“One-hundred percent?”

Jack nodded. “One-hundred percent.”

_ I should tell him _ , David thought.  _ I should tell him that I love him _ .

But he didn’t. He just smiled. “Good.”

Jack smiled, squeezing tighter for a second, and kissing his forehead. “You good now?”

“I’m good, now,” David said. “Thank you.”

The smile grew. “Good.”

The door to the stairwell flew open, and Race stuck his head in, grinning. “Chelsea got an update.”

Jack let out a loud whoop, grabbed David’s hand, and charged after the already retreating Race.

* * *

A couple hours passed in relative peace. The updates came in fewer and farther between, and Race was outraged, but Jack reminded him that meant it was going well.

Jack  _ really _ hoped it was going well. It seemed like Crutchie really liked Lauren. He was happy when he talked about her. And Jack wanted Crutchie to be happy.

He also wanted Davey to be happy, and if that meant being distracted and losing to Albert in Mario Kart because Davey wouldn’t stop touching him, that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Race and Chelsea sitting on the back of the couch loudly shit talking didn’t help, either. Chelsea had planted herself right by Jack’s shoulder, and after a glance at Davey, he had retreated towards the edge of the couch. 

Davey, at this point, was sitting next to Jack, plastered to his side, with one hand gripping his thigh. Jack got stuck staring at him a little too long, and drove Waluigi right off a cliff.

Davey snorted. “Good thing I didn’t fall for your Mario Kart skills.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Shut up, I’m the best there ever was, I’m just distracted!”

“Yeah, distracted by being shit at Mario Kart!” Race interjected, much louder than necessary.

“Poor baby.” Davey rested his chin on Jack’s shoulder, so his breath ghosted over his ear as he spoke. “I could leave, if you want. Go in the other room.”

Jack set his lips in a hard line, leaning away enough that he could turn and look at him. “Nah.” The word melted into a smile, and he leaned in again, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Albert made a gagging noise and Jack broke the kiss, rolling his eyes and grabbing a throw pillow to chuck at him.

There was a faint buzz, and Chelsea gasped. “Holy shit, she sent a picture. Oh my god, Jack, look at this!”

She catapulted herself over the couch and placed herself right in front of Jack, shoving her phone in his face. Davey’s grip on his leg tightened a little. Jack startled, and focused on her phone, letting go of his controller with one hand to place it over Davey’s as he did so.

The picture was a selfie of Crutchie and Lauren looking adorably happy together, and Jack’s heart felt like it could burst. Crutchie deserved this.

“Aww,” Albert cooed, leaning over the back of the couch to see. “You’d better look out, Jack. They’re gonna pass up you an’ Dave as cutest couple in Manhattan.”

Jack grinned. “Well yeah, we got me as a handicap. Plus, Crutchie gets sympathy points for bein’ a crip.”

Chelsea scoffed, rolling her eyes and returning her phone to her pocket. “Shut up. You’re beautiful.”

Jack felt Davey’s hand tighten on his leg again, almost to the point of being painful, and he squeezed back reassuringly. “Aww gee, I’m touched. Nah, I’m just spending too much time with Davey. Guess his ‘pretty’ is contagious.”

“Besides,” Race piped up, “we all know the cutest couple in Manhattan’s me and Spot Conlon.”

Albert let out a bark of laughter. “You and Spot aren’t a couple, you’re fuck buddies.”

Jack cringed. Oh boy, here we go. Race turned a bit red, and launched off into a loud and rather squeaky monologue about how there’s lots of different types of relationships and labels aren’t important. Jack sighed and leaned his head on Davey’s shoulder, mumbling, “Poor kid...”

Ignoring Race’s tirade, Chelsea sat down on the arm of the sofa next to Jack. “Are Laurie and Charlie fucking?” she asked casually.

Jack turned his head a little to look at her without lifting it from Davey’s shoulder. “Y’should probably ask Laurie that. I know I ain’t fuckin’ either of ‘em, so it’s not really my business either way.”

Chelsea held her hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m just saying. You probably didn’t know this, but Laurie’s family’s, like, hella Catholic. If they’re fucking, I need to get her some things.”

Jack’s eyes got very big. “Yeah, you should probably talk to her about that.”

Chelsea, in contrast, narrowed her eyes. “You know if he hurts her, I’m gonna kill him, right?”

“Please, Crutchie couldn’t hurt anything, even if he tried.” Jack laughed, twinging a little inside at the irony of that sentence, considering recent events.

Across the room, Albert snorted. “Remember that time he stepped on a bug and cried, and it turned out to be a piece of popcorn?”

Jack gestured at Albert in agreement and gratitude. “Thank you. See? He’s hopeless.”

Chelsea sputtered. “Oh my god, seriously?”

Race, who was just returning from the kitchen with a bowl that seemed to be full of three different kinds of cereal, nodded solemnly. “He wanted to have a funeral.”

Chelsea and Davey both burst into laughter. A smile darted onto Jack’s face as he looked at Davey, whose laugh had quickly become his favorite sound in the world.

“Crutchie is too pure for this world,” Davey said.

Jack, Race, and Albert all nodded in agreement.

“To be protected at all costs,” Race said sagely. “Pure, and wholesome.”

Jack scoffed a little. “Might be too late for that last bit.”

Chelsea gasped. “Ohmygod they’re fucking. They’re fucking and you know about it and you  _ lied _ to me.”

Jack gasped as well, turning to face her and leaning back against Davey as he did so, placing his hand on his chest in theatrical shock. “I did  _ not. _ I said it wasn’t my business, and it isn’t.”

“Holy shit.” Chelsea shook her head. “I’m so proud.”

“Okay, but you didn’t hear it from me,” Jack said, now halfway laying across Davey, who he had pushed over sideways in the course of his dramatics. Davey sat up, twisting as he did so Jack slid off his side, and landed with his head and shoulders across his legs. He placed one hand on Jack’s chest and the other in his hair in a gesture that probably didn’t look possessive to the others but definitely felt it to Jack. He glanced up at him, trying to read his face, but not having much success. He couldn’t quite figure out how he felt about all this. It made sense that Davey would be insecure, after the things he’d been through, and it was sweet that he cared so much, but Jack wasn’t much of a fan of the idea of someone seeing him as property.

Davey noticed him looking and forcibly relaxed his hands. He smiled apologetically at Jack.

Jack placed one of his hands over Davey’s on his chest, smiling at him gently. Race was telling a very loud story that seemed to be about four different, completely separate events, and Albert was rifling through the rather sparse video game collection piled next to the tv.

“Hey, Jack,” Albert began, stopping to consider The Last of Us, “whatcha gonna do if Crutchie brings the girl back here?”

“The girl has a name,” Chelsea huffed.

Albert flashed her a smile. “Right. Whatcha gonna do if Crutchie brings, uh, Laura or whatever back here?”

Jack snorted. “I guess we’d have to move the party. Think there’s room for five on that pullout of yours?”

Albert shrugged. “Done it before, actually.”

Race perked up. “Wait, when?”

“You were drunk off your ass.”

Jack laughed. “Shit, when was this?”

“Few months ago,” Albert explained. “I had a girl over, Race had a guy over, my girl brought a friend who brought weed, we had alcohol, shit got weird.” He chuckled at Race. “I can’t believe you don’t remember this.”

Race looked shocked and upset. “I can’t believe I missed my own orgy.”

“It wasn’t an orgy, dumbass.”

“Sure sounds like one,” Jack agreed, nodding.

Race gestured at him emphatically. “See? Jack agrees.”

“Everyone’s clothes stayed on, except the weird friend’s,” Albert insisted, “unlike the time Jack and Finch got drunk and made out at that frat party.”

Race laughed. “Holy shit, now  _ that _ was a sight to see.”

Jack groaned, throwing a pillow at Albert as Chelsea burst into laughter.

“Uh, what happened?” asked Davey, clearly trying to remain casual.

Race immediately launched into a dramatic retelling of a very average frat party, and Jack sat up, looking at Davey in concern. Granted, he wasn’t sure if he was concerned that Davey would be upset, or if he was concerned that this new possessiveness was going to become a prevalent thing.

The moment Race mentioned Jack’s name, though, Davey cut him off. “I’m sorry. This is stupid. I don’t need to know this.”

“Aww, he’s jealous. That’s cute,” Albert jeered.

Davey blushed and became very interested in his hands in his lap.

Unfortunately for everyone in the room, a Racetrack in motion tends to stay in motion, and now that he had started telling what he knew to be an embarrassing story, he wasn’t about to stop. Davey sat quietly, looking everywhere but at Jack, as Race blathered on. After the first three minutes of the story, Albert put in the disc for The Last of Us, and turned the volume up enough that it drowned out Race. Jack snickered as Race pouted, gently kicking at Albert.

“Aww come on, I wanted to hear the rest of that!” Chelsea complained.

“Another time.” Albert winked at her.

“I’ll kick your ass, I swear to god,” Jack laughed.

Albert flipped him off and turned his attention to the game.

Jack looked at Davey again, concerned by how quiet he had been this whole time. Davey continued to avoid his gaze. He didn’t look angry, though. He just looked...sad? Jack laid a hand on his arm, trying to get his attention. Davey flinched, startled, as if he’d actually forgotten Jack was really there.

He looked up at Jack. “Hey.”

“You okay?” Jack asked quietly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Davey looked away again. The non-answer was obvious.

Jack sighed quietly and nodded, dropping his hand. He didn’t really understand where all this was coming from. Didn’t Davey trust him?

Davey took a deep breath and smiled weakly. “I’m going to get water. Do you want anything from the kitchen?”

Jack shook his head, answering quietly. “Nah, I’m good, thanks.”

Davey kissed him on the cheek and stood, making his way towards the kitchen.

Chelsea sat down on the back of the couch, kicking her legs down where Davey had just been. “Dave okay?”

Jack glanced up at her. “Yeah, he’s fine.”

“Seems a little touchy.”

He stifled a laugh. Ironic. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “Al’s right. He’s jealous.”

“I don’t blame him, I’m quite the prize to be won.” Jack quipped, trying to avoid an answer with any sort of substance.

Chelsea raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And you can deal with that?” she asked.

“You know this is an open-concept apartment,” Davey called from the kitchen. “I can  _ hear _ you.”

Jack pulled a well practiced and charming smile across his face. “I can deal with anything, kiddo. My boyfriend not enjoying a story about me kissing some other guy is hardly something to ‘deal with’, anyway.”

He wanted to staunchly defend Davey, but doing so would be denying that he was in fact a little bothered by this new development. Jack had always been rather flighty. The only proper constant in his life had always been Crutchie, everything else could be dropped at a moments notice, and he could run if he had to. Jack loved Davey, and had no intentions of ever running from him, but old habits die hard, and feeling even a little bit tied down was not a feeling Jack liked.

Chelsea held her hands up in surrender. “Just checking.”

Davey made himself comfortable leaning on the counter and showed no intention of returning to the living room. Jack’s stomach twisted. He didn’t quite know what was really going on, but he knew he didn’t like it. He wished the others would hurry up and leave already, so he could talk to Davey, but that definitely wasn’t about to happen. So he found himself slipping into the all too familiar and all too fake role of nonchalant and amiable Jack ‘Always A Good Time’ Kelly.

* * *

A good forty five minutes later, Jack’s phone pinged, interrupting a very heated game of Monopoly. He looked at the screen for a moment, then put his phone back in his pocket and clapped his hands on the table. “Alright! Crutchie’s comin’ home. Says he walked her home, and he’s on his way back, so everyone out.”

“What a gentleman,” Albert said, grinning. He clapped Race on the shoulder as he stood up.

“Shit,” Chelsea chuckled. “I’m gonna have to make up an excuse for why I’m not there.”

Race stood as well. “Man, you’re just kicking us out cause I was winning!”

Jack rolled his eyes and waved his arms, shooing everyone towards the door. “Go on, get outta here, he doesn’t know we had a gossip party!”

His four guests shuffled towards the door. Davey, who had gravitated back towards the living room but never quite rejoined the group, went last.

“Bye, Jacky,” he said softly, turning to go.

“Ey, no, wait.” Jack stood up quickly, moving towards him. “He knows you were here, you can stay. I mean unless you don’t want to...?”

“I...” Davey glanced behind him as the others retreated into the hallway, closing the door behind them. He shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Davey grimaced. “Because I was kind of a jackass all night, because I’m jealous.”

Jack shrugged, moving closer and taking both of his hands in his. “Maybe a little, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you around.”

Davey sighed. “I’ve just...” He looked down at their hands. “I’ve never had someone to myself, before. I don’t know how to do it.”

“Well, step number one is ya get ‘em.”’Jack replied easily, pressing a kiss to Davey’s forehead. “And ya got me. Step two is you trust ‘em.”

“I  _ do _ trust you,” Davey argued. “It’s other people I don’t trust.” His cheeks burned red, and he averted his eyes again.

Jack chuckled lowly. “Well, neither of us can do anything about other people. But that’s kinda not how that works, anyway. Like, for example, Chelsea is into me, right?”

“Clearly,” Davey grumbled.

Jack nodded. “Right. She flirts with me all the time, and I’m not gonna lie, sometimes I flirt back. But I flirt with  _ everyone _ , it’s not about her at all. Dave, I hit on a  _ lamp _ the other day. I’m not kidding.”

“A lamp?” Davey deadpanned.

“Yeah, I was in that one lounge in the student center, and I bumped into a lamp and apologized ‘cause I thought it was a person, and I just started talking to it, and...” He shrugged.

Davey laughed. “How sleep deprived are you?”

“Right now? Peachy. Then? It was five in the morning and I hadn’t slept.” He smiled easily. “My point is, next to you? Chelsea’s nothin’.” He shrugged. “They’re all nothin’. It’s just for fun, not any sort of real. She can throw herself at me all day long and it’ll be real entertaining, but it won’t mean a thing.”

Davey leaned back against the counter, still holding Jack’s hands. “I wish she wouldn’t.”

“Like I said, there’s really not much we can do about that.” He let go of his hands and stepped closer, placing his hands on the counter, one on either side of Davey, effectively trapping him.

“I know,” Davey said, “and I know there were people before me, and...” He took a deep breath. “And I know there will probably be people after me. I’m not delusional. I just...” He sighed again.

“Hey hey hey,” Jack brought a hand up to cup his cheek. “You don’t need to be thinking like that.”

Davey took his hand and pulled it back down. “Would it bother you, if it was me?” He sounded genuinely curious. “If someone else was touching me like that, not that anyone besides you is interested.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh.

Jack thought about it for a second. “It’d depend on who it was. ‘F it was some random ass stranger, I’d have to deck ‘em. But if it was someone you’s comfortable with...” He shrugged.

Davey nodded resignedly. “I guess that’s fair.”

Jack sighed, dropping his free hand off the counter and shifting back a bit, still holding Davey’s hand. “I’m sorry, physical stuff has just never really been a thing for me, yknow? Like, of course there’s a line. I mean the harmless stuff.”

Davey brushed his thumb over Jack’s knuckles. “Right.”

He smiled sadly. “How can I make this better?”

“It’s not a ‘you’ problem,” Davey said, shaking his head. “This one’s on me.”

Jack just looked at him for a moment, not knowing what to say. On the one hand, he wanted to fix it, promise Davey he’d never touch anyone else ever again. But on the other hand, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep a promise like that. Jack was always a slut for platonic affection, and his circle understood that. But if you weren’t used to that sort of thing, it  _ would _ probably be a bit jarring. Then again, Davey was far from the least tactile person Jack knew. In fact, when he wasn’t thinking about it, he could be downright clingy, always taking Jack’s hands and sitting on his lap and laying his head on his shoulder. That was the real Davey, the one to which he naturally reverted when he was comfortable. His prudishness was clearly the learned behavior.

As if to prove Jack’s thoughts to be true, Davey placed his free hand on Jack’s waist and leaned in close. “I’m tired; may I stay here?”

Jack chuckled fondly. “It’s the cutest thing that you say ‘may I’.”

“What? It’s just English.”

“It’s stupid. Makes ya sound like a little girl in the early 1900’s who takes piano lessons.

Davey smiled. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Accurate is what it is.” Jack teased.

“And you don’t see anything wrong with calling your boyfriend a little girl from the early 1900s who takes piano lessons.”

“Gender is a myth, darling, haven’t you heard?”

Davey shoved him playfully. “I was talking about the age, creep.”

Jack laughed, stumbling slightly backwards from the push. “You’re the one who says ‘may’, so it’s your fault, not mine.”

Just then, they heard a short rattle of keys as the door was unlocked and opened. Crutchie walked in, absolutely beaming.

Jack whipped around towards him. “Eyy, there’s the man of the hour!”

Crutchie blushed and rolled his eyes. “Staaahp.”

“Soooo how did it go?” Jack asked.

“Good,” Crutchie answered cryptically. “It went good.”

“Went well,” Davey corrected teasingly.

Crutchie flipped him off. “It went well.”

Jack snickered, glancing at Davey and moving to lean back against the counter next to him, sliding an arm around his waist. “So? Gimme details!” He demanded.

Crutchie made his way into the living room and flopped down on the couch. “We just got dinner and went to see a movie. It was super basic. No big deal.”

“Those aren’t details, sweetheart.” Jack teased.

Crutchie huffed, flailing in exasperation. “What do you want from me?”

Davey laughed at his display, shaking his head fondly. Jack pressed a kiss to his cheek before heading into the living room and hanging over the back of the couch to properly harass Crutchie. “Details, bitch! Did’ja hold hands? Kiss? Make out in the back of the movie theater?”

“Of course, we held hands!” Crutchie exclaimed indignantly. “The poor girl lost her virginity to me, and you think I’m not gonna hold her hand?”

“How would I know?”

Davey was doubled over from laughing so hard.

Crutchie rolled his eyes. “I held her hand. I put my arm around her. I kissed her goodbye.”

Jack pressed a hand to his heart. “God bless.”

“You’re insufferable.

“And you’re  _ adorable _ .” He ruffled Crutchie’s hair, beaming.

Crutchie grumbled, pushing Jack’s hands away, so instead Jack fully flopped across the back of the couch, landing with his arms around Crutchie’s shoulders and wailing. “Our little boy is growing up so fast!”

“They always do,” Davey lamented, joining them in the living room and flopping gracelessly into the armchair. “Les is almost as tall as me.”

Jack grinned at him. “Yikes, he’s what, six years younger than you?”

Davey nodded, pouting.

“Oof,” he snickered, still half laying on top of Crutchie over the back of the couch.

“And you’re already tall,” Crutchie pointed out.

Jack nodded sagely. “The kid’s gonna be a giant.”

Davey sighed almost wistfully. “He would love you guys.”

“Why don’t you bring him to visit?” Crutchie asked.

Jack sat up, looking at Davey and slightly cringing. That’s right, his folks don’t know that Davey’s folks don’t know.

Davey slumped his shoulders. “Because everyone in my family except Sarah thinks I’m straight.”

Crutchie blinked, holding it together for three seconds before bursting into laughter. “Seriously? Did you get all the brain cells?”

Jack snorted and smacked the back of Crutchie’s head.

“Jack, we saw him  _ across the dining hall  _ and knew.”

“Be nice.” Jack hissed, trying desperately not to giggle.

When he looked up, though, Davey was grinning. “I don’t know, Jack. We could put you in a wig and a skirt, and I bet no one would even notice.”

Jack immediately stood straight up, choking on laughter. “Yes. I’m in. This is gonna be amazing.”

Davey and Crutchie lost it, and Jack risked the thought that he could get used to this—hanging out, having fun, laughing with the two of them.

“I’m being serious!” he insisted, grinning ear to ear. “I think I’d be a really pretty girl! Though ‘Kelly Kelly’ is pretty much the worst name. We’ll have to change my last name, too.”

“You would definitely be the most attractive girl to me—” Davey nodded. “—though I must say that means nothing.”

Jack snickered. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Crutchie raised his hand. “How about Kelly Jackson?”

Jack laughed himself into a heap on the floor.


	25. Jack Eats an Omelet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey makes an omelet and Jack eats it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this were a "real" book, this chapter would have been cut for being U S E L E S S.

David didn’t think he would ever get tired of waking up next to Jack, for several reasons. First, Jack was warm and comfy. He really did make a great pillow. Second, Jack was the perfect size and shape for snuggling. Third, Jack was gorgeous. His face was the perfect sight with which to start the day. Oh yeah, and then there was the fact that David was head over heels in love with him.

At first, David wasn’t sure what woke him. He lay on his side with Jack curled around his back, Jack’s arm wrapped around his chest, one of Jack’s legs tossed over his hip. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so warm and comfortable and  _ safe _ . He turned his head so he could see what was going on and saw that Crutchie was awake. “Hey,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

“Hey,” Crutchie whispered back. “I’m heading to the library to work on a project.”

“What time is it?”

“Early. Go back to sleep.”

David nodded and laid his head back down. He listened passively as Crutchie gathered his things and left the apartment.

He didn’t go back to sleep; he just closed his eyes and soaked in the feeling of Jack’s arms and legs around him, Jack’s deep, even breaths on the back of his neck, just  _ Jack _ .

An hour passed, and David had drifted halfway back to sleep when Jack finally started moving. Jack groaned quietly, shifting around a tiny bit, and David smiled, not saying anything yet in case he was still asleep. Lord knows he needed it.

David felt Jack’s face press into the back of his neck, right by his shoulder, and sleepy grumbles began to take shape against his skin. “Jacky? You awake?” he whispered.

Jack groaned, pulling David tighter against him, and David laughed lightly, holding Jack’s arm against his chest.

“Why do mornings happen?” Jack grumbled against the back of David’s shoulder.

“To target you specifically.”

He whined, pressing himself impossibly closer against David’s back.

“Jack,” David giggled, “I can’t breathe.”

“Yes you can,” Jack relaxed his hold almost imperceptibly.

David barely ran his fingernails along Jack’s forearm. “Do you want to go back to sleep, baby?”

There was a long, drawn out groan of an exhale, and Jack very slowly sat up, releasing David as he did so. His hair was matted on one side and sticking out all over the place on the other, and he blinked slowly.

David couldn’t believe how beautiful he was, even completely disheveled from sleep. He reached out and brushed his hand over Jack’s shoulder. “G’morning.”

“Mmm, g’morning,” Jack replied, his voice still low and rough from sleepiness. He glanced over towards Crutchie’s bed.

“Crutchie went to the library a little while ago,” David explained, gently rubbing Jack’s back.

Jack didn’t seem to register the words. “This is why I don’t not set an alarm,” he said, rubbing his knuckles against a closed eye.

“You what?” David asked, confused by the double negative.

Jack put his other hand down on the mattress, bracing his arm and leaning his weight back. “Always set an alarm in the mornings.”

“It’s only, like, nine o’clock, Jack.”

He grunted, nodding—well, more shifting his whole body in acknowledgment. “My body has a very particular clock. Y’miss the boat by even a minute and ’s all fucked.”

Davey sat up next to him and leaned his head over onto his shoulder. “That sucks. I’m sorry, baby.”

Jack muttered nonsensically and turned his head to press a kiss to David’s temple.

David sighed contentedly. He loved this. He loved Jack. “What do you have to do today?”

Jack blinked blearily, mouthing words to himself as he seemed to go over a list in his head. Then, he shook his head to signify ‘not very much’. “Just you, really. I mean, I got a paper due tomorrow, but that’s not important.”

David wondered if the suggestive wording of his answer was intentional. “Are you sure?” he asked about the paper. “If you need time to work on it—”

“Nah, I got other stuff to focus on.”

“Jack,” David smiled, “I don’t expect your attention twenty-four seven.”

“Too bad.”

David chuckled and placed a slow, gentle kiss on Jack’s cheek. He really didn’t want to get up, either.

Jack hummed happily, eyes still mostly closed, and showed absolutely no sign of moving. David began fixing his disastrous hair, combing it out with his fingers and smoothing it down. With a heavy, content sigh, Jack leaned further towards him, shifting most of his weight from his braced arm to David’s chest.

“Jack,” David laughed as he struggled to stay upright.

“What?”

David gave up and let Jack push him over.

Jack hummed happily again at his victory and just lay there, half on top of David, who couldn’t bring himself to be offended. Instead, he started to stroke Jack’s hair and softly sing a Hebrew lullaby his mom used to sing to him and Sarah. Jack sighed, resting his cheek on David’s chest.

David almost dozed back off himself, letting his voice trail off into silence as the minutes passed. About thirty seconds after he fell silent, Jack wiggled, inching himself upwards so that he could place a firm, gentle kiss on his lips.

Every time David thought he couldn’t fall any harder for his amazing boyfriend, he crashed and burned. His chest physically ached from the amount of affection welled up inside him, desperate to be heaped on Jack.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Jack spoke softly, bringing a hand up to run through David’s hair at the back of his head.

David snorted. “Where’d that come from?”

Jack blinked slowly. “My mouth.”

“You know what I mean.” David rolled his eyes. “I’ve just been sleeping.”

“I know. Incredible.” Jack nodded

David chuckled and ruffled Jack’s hair. “Weirdo.”

Jack smiled, humming in acknowledgement before shifting to close the space between them and kissing him again.

The three words David was dying to say were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say them out loud, to potentially change the great thing he and Jack had going for the worse if Jack didn’t feel the same way. Instead, he wrapped his arms loosely around Jack and returned his kiss.

Shifting up a little more to bring himself level with David, Jack braced his forearms on either side of his head, and deepened the kiss—still slow and gentle, but now heavy with intent. David responded in kind, holding on to Jack a little tighter. If this was the direction in which the morning was going, he was not complaining.

Jack suddenly broke the kiss, leaning away. “Oh wait, shit, I didn’t ask.” He cleared his throat and looked at David very sincerely. “David, may I kiss you? Please and thank you.”

It was so sweet, David wanted to give him a serious answer, but he could only hold it together for a second before he sputtered into laughter.

A grin quickly spread across Jack’s face, and he laughed as well. “See? It’s so dumb!”

“It’s adorable,” David argued. “Proper grammar is sexy.”

Jack’s eyes widened, he sputtered for a moment, and completely lost it, collapsing fully on top of David as he burst into helpless laughter.

David wrapped him up in a tight hug, laughing along, and Jack buried his face in his neck, slowly quieting into giggles.

“Yes, by the way,” David said when the volume in the room returned to a reasonable level.

Jack quickly straightened up to hover over him. “Oh. Well, good.” And he was kissing him again.

Davey tangled his fingers in Jack’s hair, tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss, and Jack responded hungrily, pressing against him as he shifted his weight. Leaving just one arm braced by Davey’s head, he reached down with his free hand to slip his fingers just barely beneath the hem of David’s shirt, tracing lightly across his skin.

David shuddered beneath his touch, unconsciously gripping his hair a little tighter. “Jack...” he breathed.

“Is this okay?” Jack asked quietly, lips brushing across David’s as he spoke.

‘Okay’ was not the word David would use. Being with Jack was better than okay. Being with Jack was incredible, like nothing David had ever experienced. He’d had sex, before Jack—a fair amount, actually—but it was different. Jack was attentive. He seemed to actually care if it was good for David, instead of simply using him for his own pleasure. David didn’t even know it could be like that.

When he didn’t answer right away, Jack paused, moving his hand away and pulling back enough that he could meet David’s eyes. “Babe...?”

David snapped out of it. “This is perfect, Jacky.”

Jack smiled, relieved. “Alright. You tell me if that changes, mkay?”

Holy God, he was beautiful, and David loved him. “You’re going to spoil me, Jack Kelly.”

The smile twisted a little in one corner and Jack leaned down closer. “Well yeah, that’s the plan,” he teased, running the end of his sentence right into another kiss.

David decided in that moment that he would do whatever it took to keep Jack Kelly, because he was officially ruined for everyone else.

* * *

“Now I’m not great with breakfast food,” Jack warned as he pulled the egg carton out of the fridge. “Actually, I’m not great with any food.” He hesitated, pondering. “Crutchie usually cooks, or else we eat stuff that doesn’t need cooked.” He set the carton on the counter and pulled a large frying pan out of a cabinet.

“You could let me help,” Davey suggested, leaning back on the counter with his arms crossed in a way that shouldn’t have been sexy but was. His hair was just a little more ruffled than usual, and he was wearing Jack’s clothes, and Jack had never actually seen him in a t-shirt before, but it was definitely doing something for him.

“I don’t think putting you to work in the kitchen falls under the umbrella of spoiling you,” Jack replied, returning to the fridge for cheese and butter.

“Neither does making me eat shitty food.”

Jack nodded. “That’s true...”

“Come on.” Davey moved to stand next to him. “Let me help.”

“Alright, but only if you really want to.”

“Excellent.” Davey grinned. “How about I take care of the omelets, and you take care of the ‘standing back and looking pretty’, okay?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

He stepped back and leaned against the counter, where Davey had been just a moment before. Davey set about cooking, and Jack’s mind set about wandering—specifically, to Davey’s ass, which looked great in sweatpants.

He softly exhaled contentedly. Every time he was with Davey, he found himself thinking that he couldn’t remember the last time he was so happy and relaxed. Every minute with him was better than the one before. After a few moments, Jack came up behind Davey and slung his arms low around his waist, pressing a kiss to the base of his neck before resting his chin on his shoulder.

Davey leaned his head back. “Do you want me to burn your omelet? This is a good way to make me burn your omelet.”

Jack smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I distracting you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh noooo...” The end of his sentence trailed off, muffled as he pressed another kiss to Davey’s shoulder.

Jack found that Davey always smelled nice, but there was something extra intoxicating about the smell of Davey mixed with that of Jack’s clothes. And have I mentioned how cute Davey looked in sweatpants and a T-shirt?

“You should wear my clothes more often,” Jack said, holding Davey a little tighter against him, and beginning to very gently sway side to side.

Davey chuckled, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“You look nice.” He began pressing soft kisses across his shoulder and up his neck.

“Okay,” Davey nodded. “I’ll steal them.”

“Then what am I supposed to wear?”

“ _ My _ clothes, obviously.” Davey elbowed Jack off to the side and made a show of looking him up and down. “You’d look cute in a sweater vest.”

Jack theatrically gagged. “I don’t think I can, babe. I’m allergic.”

Davey rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the omelets. Jack stepped backwards to lean against the counter behind him, bending his arms a bit to grip the edge.

“Are you staring at my ass again?” Davey asked.

“I would never,” he replied indignantly, pulling his gaze back up to eye level.

Davey stuck his tongue out at him, and he gasped.

“Rude.”

Davey scrunched his nose and giggled, and it was stupidly adorable.

Jack chuckled softly, and continued to stare at him. He liked this, having nothing to do except spend time with his boyfriend. Waking up together, making breakfast together. It was disgustingly domestic, and Jack loved it. He had never seen himself as a domestic type, but with Davey? Hell,  _ everything _ was different with Davey.

Davey flopped a deliciously cheesy omelet onto a plate and slid it along the counter towards Jack. “Here ya go, babe.”

Jack looked down at the plate, then back at Davey. “How fucking dare you.”

Davey froze just as he was about to crack another egg into the pan. He looked over at Jack, startled. “What?”

“You,” Jack declared, stepping towards him, “are perfect, and it’s not fair.” He kissed Davey’s cheek. “How dare you.”

Davey rolled his eyes, blushing. “You’re just biased because I’m yours.”

It always felt like a little burst of light erupted in Jack’s stomach any time Davey said anything like that.  _ ‘I’m yours’, ‘my boyfriend’ _ —anything that stated their belonging to each other. “Yeah, maybe. What’s your point?”

Davey shoved him lightly. “Eat your breakfast.

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real dad!” Jack yelled cheerfully.

Davey looked at him incredulously. “I’m not your dad at all, stupid.” He nodded to the side. “Unless you’re into that, I guess.”

“Ew, hell no.” Jack cut into his omelet with his fork and took a bite. “Holy shit, this is amazing.”

“It’s an omelet with cheese, Jack.”

“And it’s fucking amazing,” he replied around another mouthful.

Davey shook his head. “Wait until I tell you about French toast,” he deadpanned.

Jack chuckled. “Crutchie’s made it before, but I bet yours is better.”

“Doubtful. Crutchie’s pretty spectacular.”

Jack nodded. “He is, certainly, but  _ clearly _ you have cooking magic.” He gestured to his already mostly gone omelet.

“Again,” Davey huffed, “biased.”

“Everyone is biased, there’s no such thing as a neutral standpoint.”

“Oh,  _ now _ , you’re an intellectual?”

“I’m full of surprises.” Jack responded, taking another bite.


	26. Well, That Escalated Quickly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Davey play hooky, and things take an uncomfortable turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the same scene from Davey's point of view, then Jack's, so don't be alarmed when it starts over.

Morris had been in the bathroom for a solid twenty minutes, at least. David was beginning to worry that he had died. He wondered if he should check. Though, honestly, he might not have even noticed Morris’ absence, if he hadn’t left his phone in the bathroom when he took a shower. He had, however, and he really wanted to have that when he left for class.

“Should I...?” he asked across the room to Oscar, who seemed completely unconcerned. “Should I check on him or something?”

Oscar glanced up from his laptop, clearly uninterested and mildly irritated. “He’s just in the shower, what’s your problem?”

“The water’s not on,” David shot back.

“Okay so he’s shitting. Why are you so interested?”

Oh for god’s sake. “I left my phone in the bathroom.”

Oscar grunted, nodding slightly. “Yeah that makes more sense.”

Rolling his eyes, Davey stood up from where he’d been sitting on his bed, deciding to knock on the door. As soon as his feet hit the floor, though, the door opened, and Morris stepped out of the bathroom.

Moving towards his own bed, he held his hand out towards David, and in it, David’s phone. “You left your phone in the bathroom. You got a couple texts.”

“Thanks.” Davey accepted his phone. The first thing he noticed when he lit up the screen was ‘Jack,’ and his heart stopped in his chest. What had Morris read?

The preview of the text displayed a thankfully non-condemning message: “ _ Hiya Davey, d’you wanna… _ ”

Davey tried not to let his sigh of relief make too much noise as he opened the message.

“ _ Hiya Davey, d’you wanna skip out on class and go to the park with me? _ ”

David chuckled to himself. “ _ Yeah, right. If only. _ ”

“ _ No come onnnnn my class got canceled. _ ”

“ _ Lucky you. Mine didn’t. _ ”

“ _ Yeah but what if we pretended it did? _ ”

“ _ No, _ ” Davey texted. “ _ No way. _ ”

* * *

“Will you  _ stop moving? _ ” Jack whined. “You’re a worse pillow than you were a desk, jeez.” He was on his back, stretched out across a park bench, with his head in David’s lap, attempting to stuff yet another landscape into his very full sketchbook.

“Ouch,” David chuckled, brushing his fingers through Jack’s hair.

“Look at this!” Jack sputtered, waving the sketchbook in David’s face. “The tree is all wiggly!”

“The tree is beautiful just the way it is.”

“Yeah, well, it could be a lot better,” Jack grumbled.

David rolled his eyes.

Jack made sketching look so easy, like the image just possessed his hand and found its way onto the page. It was incredible, David thought. He’d never been able to do that. He always thought in words, not pictures. He found himself absently wondering if Jack saw the whole world differently than he did. Clearly, their brains worked in vastly different, but complementary ways.

That, and he thought about how damn cute Jack was when he was concentrating comically hard on each line and every shade.

It took a moment for David to register the words coming out of Jack’s mouth, rather than just the sound of his voice, as he was lamenting the rushed sloppiness of his work—which was ridiculous, because his work was stunning, and David told him as much.

Jack rolled his eyes. “You’re just saying that cause you think I’m cute. Don’t get me wrong; I  _ am _ cute, but that has nothing to do with the quality of my work.”

“One,” David said defiantly, “yes, you are  _ very _ cute, and two, if you were the ugliest piece of garbage to ever walk the Earth, that would still be an impressive sketch.”

Jack chuckled. “I still think you’re biased, but okay.” He let his head loll sideways, looking calculatingly at the people who were passing through the courtyard-like convergence of pathways in front of them. His pencil moved furiously, as his eyes darted back and forth between the paper and these moving subjects of his.

David let out a relaxed sigh, and almost at the same time he heard a sharp intake of breath as Jack tensed up, and his pencil stopped moving.

David frowned. “Jack?”

Jack was staring in frozen surprise, and clear apprehension, at a red-headed girl who was walking through the courtyard. She noticed the two of them and smiled, waving briefly before changing course and heading in their direction.

Jack sat up sharply, hissing. “Shit.”

“What?” David glanced in between Jack and the woman.

Jack didn’t get a chance to answer as she approached, still smiling, and already talking. “Hey Jack, how are you?”

David could feel the nervous energy sliding off of him as he stood up. It was like that feeling when you stretch a rubber band a bit too far, and you can tell it’s about to either snap, or go flying.

Jack smiled—no, cringed—no, smiled at her. “Hey, hi, yeah, I’m alright.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly wildly uncomfortable. David stood, as well.

“Who’s your friend?” the woman asked, turning that smile, which felt somehow overdone, towards David.

Jack glanced at him briefly and nodded. “Right, yeah, uh...Kath, this is Davey, Davey, Katherine.” He gestured between the two of them, as one does during introductions.

David’s train of thought derailed and crashed into a nearby ravine, and all that was left was, ‘Katherine?  _ The _ Katherine?’

_ The _ Katherine was smiling almost blindingly as she extended a hand towards him. “Hi Davey, nice to meet you.”

Jack minutely cringed.

David shook her hand politely. “Nice to meet you, too.” Then, a little bitterly, he added, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

He refused to be jealous. So what if Jack’s ex-girlfriend was beautiful, well-dressed, well-spoken, clearly wealthy, and did I mention beautiful? David may have been gay, but he knew a beautiful woman when he saw one.

The thought crossed his mind, unbidden, that this was the kind of person Jack should be with. They were—had been, in the past, years ago—a beautiful couple. They  _ looked _ like they should go together. They would have had really pretty kids, which brought on a whole host of awful emotions as David realized that was something she could give Jack that he couldn’t. Unlike before, however, he didn’t feel the urge to cling to Jack; instead, he shrank away, feeling out of place and unworthy.

Katherine’s eyes widened, and she giggled, “Oh no.”

Jack wanted to run. David could see it written all over his face and the way he was standing. Then, that damned gorgeous smile slid onto his face—though it didn’t quite reach his eyes—and when he spoke it was with as much swagger and panache as when he performed for any other person. As Jack jovially told Katherine it was ‘all bad’ that David had heard, David realized that’s what Jack did; he performed for people. There were countless layers that he’d sift through, engineering the perfect face for any situation, sliding personality and physicality on and off like a coat. David was then overcome with an entirely new fear that Jack performed for him, too.

“Yes,” Katherine shrugged with her hands up, “I am the crazy writer you were warned about.”

_ Oh God, he has an English nerd fetish _ . “You’re a writer?” David asked.

She nodded. “I just got a job at The Sun.”

Jack’s eyebrows went up. “Oh shit, you finally landed that, huh? Nice.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Well, it’s an internship, but we’ve talked about me getting properly brought on once I graduate.”

She just  _ had _ to be successful, too, didn’t she? She had to be everything David wanted to be and wasn’t.

“What about you?” she asked Jack. “Any post-graduation plans, yet?” The way she said it with a knowing smile made it seem like an inside joke.

Jack shrugged, offering a rather noncommittal answer and shifting seemingly unconsciously towards David. “I mean, selling my shit is the dream, o’course,” he wiggled his sketchbook, “but that’ll probably take a while to get off the ground.”

“Your art’s beautiful,” David and Katherine said in perfect unison. Jack jumped a little, and the two of them looked at each other in shock.

Katherine laughed, either completely oblivious to how uncomfortable the two boys were, or just really good at playing it off. “So how about you, Davey? What’s your major?” she asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“English,” he replied quickly, like a reflex.

She nodded. “There’s a lot you can do with an English degree. Any area you’re specifically interested in?”

He tried to smile. “Not exactly. I’ve thought about teaching, but mostly I just do it because I like it.”

“That’s good, too! It’s important to do what you love, there’s always time to figure out details later.”

Add ‘nice’ to the list of reasons Katherine was perfect. Katherine was perfect, and David was a mess, and David had always known that Jack could do better, but he didn’t appreciate being faced with the living proof of that fact.

Katherine playfully shoved Jack’s shoulder, and seeing them make physical contact for that briefest of moments made David feel sick to his stomach. She continued, “As long as you don’t end up like this guy, holed up in a studio for days on end.”

“Come on now, you know I can’t afford studio time,” Jack retorted, teasing.

“Whatever. I’m just glad to see you’re making new friends.” She nodded towards David. “I haven’t seen you around, so I worried you were having another hermit phase.”

Jack chuckled, casting a look at Davey that was caught halfway between adoration and a smirk. “‘Friends’, right.”

“What?” Katherine asked, clearly not getting it. “It’s a good thing.”

He looked back at Katherine, eyebrows going up in amusement. “Yeah, friends are great.”

David didn’t know what to do. Why wasn’t Jack telling her? Was Jack ashamed of him? Oh, God, of course he was. He totally downgraded, obviously, and he didn’t want his ex to know. David tried not to let the hurt show on his face.

Katherine narrowed her eyes at Jack, never once letting her smile falter. “Riiiiight...”

There was a playful light sparking in Jack’s eyes, and he once again shifted closer to David. “Though hey, that reminds me—how’s  _ your _ boyfriend doing?”

If it were possible, her eyes got even brighter. “Darcy? Oh, he’s great. You should really meet him!”

Davey could see Jack was doing his best to hold his smile to a reasonable level. “I’m sorry, wait, you’re dating  _ Darcy? _ ” He let out a small laugh. “Shit, I thought it was Bill, or someone reasonable.” He held up his hands placatingly. “I’m sorry, that’s rude. I’m sure Darcy is great. Besides, you dated me, so we already know your taste is questionable at best.”

Katherine folded her arms, but it was easy to see that she took no offense. “Oh, and yours is so much better, is it?”

“No, his sucks,” David interrupted their banter, selfishly desperate to make it stop. He hated her. He hated her because he  _ liked _ her. She was great. She was better than he would ever be.

Jack’s gaze snapped to Davey the moment he spoke, and an entirely different sort of smile lit up on his face. He wrinkled his nose in an almost silent snicker, and slid an arm around Davey’s waist, gently pulling him against his side. “Best there’s ever been, actually,” he replied before leaning a little closer, tilting his head to bring his mouth close to Davey’s ear as he continued, much quieter so only he could hear. “I’m surprised you’re so open about our sex life, babe.”

David shoved him off, turning bright red.

“Oh!” Katherine glanced between them. “Oh my god, I totally didn’t realize you were—...?”

Jack laughed, still smiling at Davey. “Yeah, hard to believe, I know. He’s way out of my league.”

David’s nerves softened around the edges, and he even felt a tiny smile flicker across his lips.

“Awww,” Katherine cooed, grinning. “That’s so sweet.”

Jack spared a glance at her. “It’s all him. I’m just the arm candy.”

David rolled his eyes and scoffed.

Katherine giggled. “Yeah,” she said to David, “he’s always like that. Get used to it.”

David didn’t like Katherine telling him what Jack was like.

Jack held his hands up in surrender. “I know my place, there’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

“You’re impossible,” Katherine said. She glanced at the time on her phone. “Well, I have to get going. Good seeing you, Jack, and nice to meet you, Davey.”

What David thought was, ‘Only Jack calls me that.’ What he said was, “Nice to meet you, too.”

“See ya, Kath,” Jack replied, and after one more painfully bright smile, she walked off.

* * *

“Will you  _ stop moving? _ ” Jack whined. “You’re a worse pillow than you were a desk, jeez.” He was on his back, stretched out across a park bench, with his head in Davey’s lap, attempting to stuff yet another landscape into his very full sketchbook.

“Ouch,” Davey chuckled, brushing his fingers through Jack’s hair.

“Look at this!” Jack sputtered, waving the sketchbook in his face. “The tree is all wiggly!”

“The tree is beautiful just the way it is.”

“Yeah, well, it could be a lot better,” Jack grumbled.

Davey rolled his eyes.

He was always so supportive of Jack’s art, so easily impressed. He always thought his work was amazing, even when really it was pretty average, full of mistakes, and sometimes downright sloppy. Having that sort of support and encouragement was new to Jack. Sure, he’d always had Crutchie, and he was great, but Davey seemed to go out of his way to make Jack feel good about the things he did and what he made.

“You’d think I’d be better by now,” Jack lamented. “I’ve done more landscapes than I can count. Buildings, trees, water, the works, and I’m still a sloppy mess.” He surveyed the unfinished sketch, displeased. “I’m too slow, but when I go fast, it’s all rushed and shitty.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Davey replied. “Your work is stunning.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You’re just saying that cause you think I’m cute. Don’t get me wrong; I  _ am _ cute, but that has nothing to do with the quality of my work.”

“One,” Davey said defiantly, “yes, you are  _ very _ cute, and two, if you were the ugliest piece of garbage to ever walk the Earth, that would still be an impressive sketch.”

Jack chuckled. “I still think you’re biased, but okay.” He let his head loll sideways, looking calculatingly at the people who were passing through the courtyard-like convergence of pathways in front of them. His pencil moved furiously, as his eyes darted back and forth between the paper and these moving subjects of his. Davey let out a relaxed sigh, and almost at the same time, Jack’s breath caught in his throat, and he froze.

Davey frowned down at him. “Jack?”

Jack was staring in frozen surprise and apprehension at a painfully familiar red-headed girl who was walking through the courtyard. Katherine. He hoped that if he held still enough, he might clip through the bench and sink into the Earth so she wouldn’t notice him.

Unfortunately, she noticed him. With a smile and a brief wave, she changed course and headed in their direction.

Jack sat up sharply, hissing. “Shit.”

“What?” Davey asked, glancing back and forth between them.

Jack felt sick. Why did she have to be here? Why did she have to be anywhere? He took a beat too long to start a response, and she was already there.

“Hey Jack, how are you?”

He cringed, wishing the ground would swallow him as he stood up. He tried his best to smile, but it was much more of a cringe. He wasn’t expecting this, and there are few things Jack Kelly hates more than being caught off guard.

“Hey, hi, yeah, I’m alright,” he replied lamely, rubbing the back of his neck in wild discomfort.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked, aiming that glittering smile of hers towards Davey, and Jack felt his stomach drop. These two interacting was the  _ last _ thing he wanted.

“Right, yeah, uh...Kath, this is Davey. Davey, Katherine.” He gestured between the two of them, as one does during introductions.

She was smiling almost blindingly as she extended a hand towards him. “Hi Davey, nice to meet you.”

Jack minutely cringed. He didn’t particularly like hearing someone else call him ‘Davey’. 

Davey shook her hand politely. “Nice to meet you, too.” There was the briefest of pauses before he added, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

He seemed to shrink a little bit, almost shifting away from Jack.

Katherine’s eyes widened, clearly not noticing even a hint of anything wrong, and she giggled, “Oh no.”

Jack wanted to run. He wanted to disappear. Davey’s discomfort was written all over his face, and Jack could hardly bear it, but there was nothing he could do, so he slid his most winning smile onto his face, leaning once again into the witty and charming Jack Kelly.

“All bad, of course,” he teased, and Katherine laughed.

“Yes,” Katherine shrugged with her hands up, “I am the crazy writer you were warned about.”

“You’re a writer?” Davey asked.

She nodded. “I just got a job at the New York Sun.”

Jack’s eyebrows went up. “Oh shit, you finally landed that, huh? Nice.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Well, it’s an internship, but we’ve talked about me getting properly brought on once I graduate.”

“What about you?” she asked Jack. “Any post-graduation plans, yet?” She smiled at him, clearly calling back to the many,  _ many _ arguments they had over the two years they were together concerning his lack of long-term foresight. It was hard to worry about job titles, or what color you were going to paint your future living room, when you had more pressing things—like how to afford this semester’s books without starving—to worry about.

Jack shrugged and shifted towards Davey. He wanted to grab onto his hand, to anchor himself, to offer Davey something as well, if he needed it, but something kept his hand by his side. “I mean selling my shit is the dream, o’course,” he wiggled his sketchbook, “but that’ll probably take a while to get off the ground.”

“Your art’s beautiful,” David and Katherine said in perfect unison. Jack jumped a little, and the two of them looked at each other in shock. Seeing them both responding in the same way, holding that same esteem for what he did, was wildly jarring. That one little thing, that one glaring moment of sameness, brought all their differences crashing into Jack’s awareness.

Katherine Pulitzer was beautiful. This was an undeniable fact. But looking at her had never made Jack feel the way he did when he looked at Davey. Davey Jacobs was beautiful. This was also an undeniable fact. He was nice to look at, certainly, but he was  _ beautiful _ . The more Jack got to know him, the more he found that he didn’t know. Davey glowed with this indescribable sense of realness. This sense of solidity.

Some days, the world spun so fast that Jack was sure he’d be thrown off, but if he held onto Davey, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere. There was so much Davey knew. There was so much Davey  _ was _ . And that made him nearly blinding.

Looking at Davey was like looking at an ancient sculpture, or painting. On the surface, from a distance, he was gorgeous, but when you got closer, when you  _ really  _ looked, you could see the brushstrokes and the fingerprints. You could see these hints of a realness and a depth that you knew you would never properly understand, and that only made him more captivating.

At one time, Jack had sworn that he would love Katherine Pulitzer till the day he died, and for a long time, he had believed it, but in this uncomfortable, awkward moment, Jack realized that what he had felt for her was barely even a shadow of what he felt for Davey.

Jack was jerked back into the moment when Katherine laughed.

“So how about you, Davey, what’s your major?” she asked.

“English,” Davey replied quickly, like a reflex.

She nodded. “There’s a lot you can do with an English degree. Any area you’re specifically interested in?”

He smiled, but it was strained. “Not exactly. I’ve thought about teaching, but mostly I just do it because I like it.”

“That’s good too! It’s important to do what you love, there’s always time to figure out details later.”

Katherine playfully shoved Jack’s shoulder, and Davey’s mouth twisted a little. She continued, “As long as you don’t end up like this guy, holed up in a studio for days on end.”

“Come on now, you know I can’t afford studio time,” Jack retorted, teasing.

“Whatever. I’m just glad to see you’re making new friends.” She nodded towards Davey. “I haven’t seen you around, so I worried you were having another hermit phase.”

Jack chuckled, casting a look at Davey that was caught halfway between adoration and a smirk. “‘Friends’, right.”

“What?” Katherine asked. “It’s a good thing.”

He looked back at Katherine, eyebrows going up in amusement. “Yeah, friends are great.”

It was clear she didn’t realize that they were a couple, and for a moment, Jack was irritated by her being so self-centered and oblivious. Then again, as he’d discussed with Davey a while ago, he was very affectionate with all his friends, and she hadn’t exactly stumbled upon them making out or declaring their undying love for each other.

She narrowed her eyes at Jack, smile unwavering. “Riiiiight...”

There was a playful light sparking in Jack’s eyes, and he once again shifted closer to Davey, wondering how obvious he’d have to be for her to get it. “Though hey, that reminds me—how’s  _ your _ boyfriend doing?”

She lit up—well, lit up more than she already was. “Darcy? Oh, he’s great. You should really meet him!”

Jack bit back a grin. “I’m sorry, wait, you’re dating  _ Darcy? _ ” He let out a small laugh. “Shit, I thought it was Bill, or someone reasonable.” He held up his hands placatingly. “I’m sorry, that’s rude. I’m sure Darcy is great. Besides, you dated me, so we already know your taste is questionable at best.”

Katherine folded her arms, but it was easy to see that she took no offense. “Oh, and yours is so much better, is it?”

“No, his sucks,” David interrupted. 

Jack’s gaze snapped to him the moment he spoke, and an entirely different sort of smile—that smile that had only ever belonged to Davey—lit up on his face. He wrinkled his nose in an almost silent snicker, and slid an arm around Davey’s waist, gently pulling him against his side. “Best there’s ever been, actually,” he replied before leaning a little closer, tilting his head to bring his mouth close to Davey’s ear as he continued, much quieter so only he could hear. “I’m surprised you’re so open about our sex life, babe.”

Davey shoved him off, turning bright red.

“Oh!” Katherine glanced between them. “Oh my god, I totally didn’t realize you were—...?”

Jack laughed, still smiling, with his attention focused on Davey. “Yeah, hard to believe, I know. He’s way out of my league.”

A tiny smile flickered across Davey’s face.

“Awww,” Katherine cooed, grinning. “That’s so sweet.”

Jack spared a glance at her. “It’s all him, I’m just the arm candy.”

Davey rolled his eyes and scoffed.

Katherine giggled. “Yeah,” she said to Davey, “he’s always like that. Get used to it.”

Jack held his hands up in surrender. “I know my place, there’s nothin’ wrong with that.”

“You’re impossible,” Katherine said. She glanced at the time on her phone. “Well, I have to get going. Good seeing you, Jack, and nice to meet you, Davey.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Davey replied, and Jack could see by the look of his eyes that it was not, in fact, nice.

“See ya, Kath,” Jack replied, and after one more painfully bright smile, she walked off.

Davey turned to look at him with the fakest smile Jack had ever seen. “Well,” he said, “she’s fucking wonderful.”

Jack’s face fell, and he felt a rock sink to the pit of his stomach. “Babe, I’m sorry, I had no idea she was gonna come through here.”

Davey shook his head. “No, of course, it’s fine. Great.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “She’s nice.”

“Sweetheart,” Jack stepped closer, opening his arms a little and cocking his head the slightest bit, silently asking if he can touch him.

Davey nodded his permission.

Jack took a gentle but firm hold of Davey’s waist, one hand resting above either hip. “If you’re worried about me an’ her, you don’t gotta be. There’s nothing there anymore. ‘Specially not with you being here.”

Davey groaned and tipped his head forward, so his forehead came to rest on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m not  _ worried _ .”

Jack slipped his arms properly around Davey’s waist, pulling him gently against himself and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “Okay, then what’s up?”

Davey sighed. “I don’t know, Jack. I just— I don’t like—” He growled in frustration, presumably at not having the right words.

Jack began gently rubbing his back, listening quietly.

Davey took a breath. “Do you still...with Katherine, I mean...do you...?” He pulled away. “I’m sorry. This is stupid. I’ll get over it.”

“Ey, ey, no wait.” Jack caught his waist again, keeping him from going too far. “Nothin’ coming from you is stupid. Go on.”

Davey paused, chewing on his bottom lip. He looked down at his shoes. “What do you want me to say?” he asked. “That I feel threatened by Chelsea and Katherine? Because I do.”

Of course Jack didn’t want him to say that. Jack didn’t want him to feel like that, either. He wanted to tell Davey how he had absolutely nothing to worry about, how much he loved him, how important he was...but he was afraid that saying those things would change everything. What if Davey didn’t feel the same? What if he thought Jack was going too fast?

“Can you tell me why?” Jack asked softly, shifting a little and pulling Davey back against his chest before resting his forehead against his.

Davey huffed out a laugh. “Because they’re beautiful, confident women who have known you longer than I have, and because you looked like you saw a ghost when you saw Katherine, but obviously the two of you still get along, so I have to assume there’s still  _ something _ there, and she’s obviously incredible, and  _ Chelsea _ is way more fun than I’ll ever be, and—”

(And for an English major, Davey Jacobs had quite the love affair with run-on sentences, didn’t he? Damn, could that boy talk)

“Hey baaaaabe?” Jack interrupted, smiling gently.

“Hm?” Davey glanced up with his eyes.

“Can we pause for a sec? Cause I really wanna kiss you.”

Davey blinked. “Um, sure?”

Jack moved his hands up to the nape of his neck and gently tilted his head up so he could kiss him. Slowly, softly, trying his best to pour his adoration and unspoken feelings into that small and simple movement. Davey put his arms around Jack, and Jack could feel him relax a little. He smiled against his lips, and moved his arms down, one around his waist, and the other across his back, wrapping tightly around him and holding him as close as he could. His mouth moved slowly and deliberately, gentle and loving. He needed a way to prove to Davey how completely he belonged to him, and this was the only applicable idea.

Then, Davey started giggling and broke away. “Jack, we’re in the middle of a park.”

Jack looked up and around them, startled. “What? Oh my god, I didn’t realize.”

Davey rolled his eyes.

Jack smiled gently. “Okay, un-pause. I get what you’re saying, and I know me telling you ‘you don’t need to feel that way’ doesn’t mean shit. Everyone’s got their fears, insecurities, whatever. I can promise you though, those two?” He gestured towards Katherine and Chelsea, who distinctly were not there. “They got nothin’ on you. Chelsea’s fun sometimes, sure, but she’s fake as hell. And Katherine? She used to tell me she felt more like my babysitter than my girlfriend. Which is really super fucked up if you think about it...” He frowned into the middle-distance.

Davey chuckled uncomfortably. “Look, Jack, I don’t want to make you feel trapped, or like you have to explain yourself for having friends.”

Now, Jack chuckled. “I wouldn’t say me and Kath are ‘friends’...”

“She sure seems to think you are.” Davey frowned. “You acted like you were.”

He sighed, dropping his arms and running a hand through his hair. “I mean, we were together for two years. I don’t seek her out, but I’m not gonna act like I don’t know her.”

Davey nodded. “Could have fooled me.”

Jack’s eyebrows went up. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing.” Davey took his hand and smiled. “Do you want to finish your drawing now, or do something else?”

He closed his fingers around Davey’s, but shifted backwards a step. “No c’mon.”

“Jack,” Davey laughed, “you already convinced me to skip class, like a terrible influence. At least entertain me.”

Jack opened his mouth, but closed it again and bit his lip. He wanted to push, to get this most recent little mess solved and put away, but Davey clearly didn’t want to, and Jack didn’t want to upset him any more than he evidently already was. He sighed. “Okay, what do you want to do?”

“Politely,” Davey said in a comically stoic voice, retrieving Jack’s sketchbook from the bench, “whatever you want, honey.”

“‘Politely’?”

“As opposed to honestly.”

Jack set his mouth in a tight line. “Right.”

“Honestly?” Davey took a step towards Jack. “You.”

Jack choked on a laugh. That was...quite a turn around. Actually, that was a very suspicious turn around. “Seriously?”

“Unless you don’t want to,” Davey said demurely. “I’d be happy to do someth—”

“Do  _ you _ want to?” Jack asked flatly. “Or are you trying to distract me?”

Or, Jack wondered, was Davey just saying what he thought Jack wanted to hear, because he was insecure and felt threatened by Katherine?

“Oh, for God’s sake, Jack.” Davey backed up.

“What? You were just all upset!”

“And now I’m not!”

Jack sputtered. “Just like that?”

“Apparently.” Davey handed Jack his sketchbook. “Jack, you can just tell me no.”

Jack took the sketchbook, still confused and a little incredulous. “I’m not trying to dance around telling you ‘no’, I’m trying to fix whatever just happened.”

“What  _ did _ just happen?” Davey started a few sentences before settling on, “Jack, are you going to interrogate me every time we—...?”

“What? I’m not interrogating anybody! You were just all upset and then out of nowhere you’re saying you want to fuck, of course I’m surprised!” More worried than surprised.

“God, you make me crazy,” Davey muttered, pressing his fingers to his temples. “What is this? What are you so afraid of?”

“Hurting you!”

Davey shook his head. “I’m not gonna let that happen! I’m not a child. I can make my own decisions and take care of myself.”

Jack threw his hands up, frustrated. “I never said you can’t.”

“You didn’t—!” Davey caught himself and lowered his volume. “—have to, Jack.” He pressed his hands together as if praying and touched his fingers to his lips, then tilted his hands towards Jack. “I told you that I will ask for help when I need it.”

“And you asked what was up with Kath, and Chelsea, so I thought you wanted me to sort through it with you.”

“And you did! And it’s over!”

Once again he threw up his hands. “Okay, if that’s what you want!”

“If  _ what’s _ what I want?” Davey shot back.

“Wh—for this to stop? For me to drop it?”

“Then yes,” he said. “That’s what I want.”

Jack grit his teeth. “Alright. It’s dropped.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

What had just happened? They were having a great day, and then Kath came out of nowhere. Of course, that was no one’s fault, but it was definitely less than ideal. Jack had known Davey was kind of touchy about her, so he knew them meeting was gonna be rough, but having him snap afterwards from super insecure and upset to ‘let’s go back to your place’ was...Well, Davey had said a few times that for years he thought he was only good for one thing—that thing being sex. He’d told him about times he felt like he couldn’t say no. He’d told him about how he lost someone he loved because he said no, and everyone knows that old habits die hard. The timing was concerning, to say the least. Davey had straight up admitted he felt threatened by the girls, then immediately flipped around to offering sex. Jack didn’t like that. It seemed too much like Davey was trying to use sex to keep him, like he might not actually want it. Hell, he might even have himself fooled.

“I should go to my last class,” Davey said.

Jack nodded stonily. “Sure, I should...” he trailed off, moving his hand with the sketchbook in it.

Davey nodded. He was already walking past Jack when he said, “I’ll text you later.”

Jack didn’t even answer.


	27. Three Days Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Davey haven't spoken in three days. Crutchie stages an intervention for Jack, and the Delanceys stage a different intervention for Davey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feat. me as Specs and my sister as the Delanceys.
> 
> November 1st—Kitty and I live very far apart. I am picking her up from the airport in two hours, so brace yourselves: The authors of this monstrosity will be in the same place for the first time since March (read: WELL before we started working on this). Let the shenanigans ensue.

It was later. A lot later. Three days later, to be specific. And Davey still hadn’t texted him. Jack was wildly upset, but would hear none of it every time Crutchie told him to ‘suck it up and just text him’. If Davey wanted to talk to him, he would. That morning, Crutchie had finally gotten fed up with Jack’s melancholic antics, and called for reinforcements. Jack had two hours free after his noon class, so Specs was going to meet him for lunch.

Entering the dining hall, Jack quickly spotted him at a table near the middle of the room. With a nodded greeting, he headed over.

“Hey, Jack,” Specs said brightly once he was within earshot. It seemed Specs was always smiling, always happy. Why Crutchie had chosen him to whip Jack into shape, Jack wasn’t sure.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He replied, dropping into the chair opposite him.

“Not much. Just cheering up a dumbass. The usual.”

Jack laughed shortly. “Right, yeah.”

“So?” Specs asked, sitting back in his chair, still smiling. “You wanna talk about it?”

He  _ did _ , but he wasn’t really sure how to. The whole mess was so wrapped up in Davey’s history, and there was no way Jack was gonna pull that out into the light. “I dunno, Specs. I just feel like shit. Everything was great, and then Kath wandered by, and it all blew up. He said he’d text me later, but it’s been  _ days _ .”

Specs’ smile finally dropped. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah.” Jack nodded, dragging a hand down his face. “I checked with Spot on Wednesday, before my shift at the auto shop. He said he’s fine.”

Specs nodded gently, much like a bad actor playing a therapist might. “That’s good.”

Jack let out a short exhale of laughter. “Yeah, at least I know I’m being shut out, instead of worrying.”

“But it still hurts,” Specs said knowingly.

Another bitter laugh. “Well yeah.”

“Then why haven’t you reached out to him?”

“He said he’d text me...if he wanted to talk to me, he would.”

“He might be thinking the same thing.”

Jack started to reply, but stopped. That was a good point. That’s when Jack remembered that Specs had already been accepted into graduate school for clinical psychology, and that was probably why Crutchie sent him to Specs. Clever bastard.

“Jack,” Specs began, folding his hands on the table, “I know I don’t know the whole situation. What I do know is that you care about Dave a lot.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah...?”

“Then he’s worth fighting for,” Specs concluded.

“I mean, I agree, but he got mad when I did that.” Jack, like so many people, had a bad habit of using humor in an attempt to distract from his problematic feelings.

Specs frowned. “Are you serious about him?”

Jack sighed, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. “Of course, I am.”

“Then why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

Another sigh. “I am, really. I just don’t know what to do.”

“What are you afraid of?”

The similarity of Specs’ words to David’s from three days earlier struck Jack. He cringed. “Hurting him? Scaring him off?”

“Jack,” Specs leaned forward, “one text to your boyfriend after three days of silence is not going to hurt him or scare him off, but the silence might.”

Jack groaned, pulling out his phone. “If he hates me, it’s your fault.”

* * *

David had fully intended to text Jack later on Tuesday, when he said he would. Then, when Jack didn’t respond and just let him walk away, he started to doubt himself. He’d been crazy, really. He’d pitched a fit about Chelsea, then Katherine. If he were Jack, he’d also want to run for the hills. He figured that, if Jack wanted to text him, Jack would text him, since Jack seemed to think he knew what was best for David at all times.

David had been angrily working on a paper for two hours straight when one of his roommates spoke up.

“Hey, when’s that paper due?” Oscar asked from his bunk.

“Wednesday,” David replied automatically, like a zombie.

“That’s like, six days from now.”

“Five days from now,” David corrected him. As he spoke, he accidentally typed ‘days from now,’ into his paper, shook his head, and backspaced.

“That’s still forever. Who starts on a paper more than two days before it’s due?” he snickered at Morris, who was at his desk, playing some pointless MMO RPG.

David just rolled his eyes and ignored their snide remarks. He’d gotten good at that.

“Do you ever even do anything other than study?” Oscar continued.

David scoffed. “Of course, I do.”  _ Sometimes, I fight with my boyfriend _ .

“Oh yeah, like what?”

David let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do you care, Oscar?”

“What, a guy can’t be worried about his roommate? Besides. you’re sucking all the life outta this room, being such a gloomy bitch all the time!”

Ah, yes. David was really feeling the love and concern. “Thanks, Oscar.”

“Man you need to lighten up,” Morris agreed, joining this incredibly suspicious conversation.

“Oh yeah?” David humored them disinterestedly. “How?”

“Take a load off, go out, and do something fun!”

“And don’t bring a book.” Oscar added, snickering some more.

David didn’t know what those two wanted out of this conversation, but he figured it wasn’t good. “I do fun things.”

“Prove it,” Morris retorted.

“What, do you want to try me in court?”

“Take it easy, we’re just playin’, sheesh,” Oscar said, holding his hands up placatingly.

“Nah, I don’t know, Oscar.” Morris held up a hand to shush his brother and smiled at David in a manner that reminded him distinctly of a cartoon shark, and David was a sea lion. “I think Jacobs ought to come to the party tonight.”

David sputtered. “A party? Really? You think that’s my scene?”

“That’s the point,” Morris replied, still smiling. “Get outta your comfort zone, live a little!”

“I live plenty.” David turned his attention back to his paper. Maybe, if he turned it in early, the academic fulfillment would make up for the emptiness Jack left behind.

“Don’t sound like it.”

David took a deep, cleansing breath.

“Morris is right, you should come with us,” Oscar agreed.

David waited for a few seconds for the Messiah to crash through the roof and rescue him. That seemed like the only logical next link in this chain of events.

“You want me to come with you?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, it’d be fun,” Oscar replied.

Seriously, what alternate universe had David phased into while he wasn’t looking? Before he could answer, he received a text message, which mercifully provided him with an excuse to escape this bizarre conversation. He retrieved his phone, expecting Sarah or Les or one of his freshman entourage to be his savior.

It was Jack.

The message was short. Only one word, in fact. Simply: “ _ Hey _ ”

He stared at it, blinking slowly. ‘Hey’? That’s what Jack had to say after three days of silence? Then again, it was better than nothing. David was the one who said he was going to text Jack and didn’t.

“Dude, you okay?” Morris asked.

David nodded. “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

He couldn’t deal with this with them in the room, so grabbed his phone and fled to the stairwell. He sat on the top step and stared at the message for another minute. He needed to respond, but what the hell was he supposed to say? He settled for, “ _ Hi _ .” If Jack could be simple, so could he.

It took a minute for a response to come through. “ _ How are you? _ ”

Again, he considered his response carefully, but settled in the end for, “ _ Fine. How are you? _ ”

“ _ Been better _ …” Another message pinged in. “ _ this is weird _ ” Then, another: “ _ I’m sorry _ ”

David set his phone down and dropped his head into his hands. He was upset, sure, but he loved this boy. Jack was worth setting his ego aside for a minute. He texted back, “ _ I’m sorry, too _ .”

A minute or two passed before his phone dinged again.

“ _ Do you want to talk about it, or...? _ ”

“ _ No, but we need to _ .”

“ _ Okay _ ”

David let out a heavy sigh. He didn’t know where to begin. He didn’t even know what they needed to talk about, exactly. He opted to start with, “ _ I’m sorry I didn’t text you the other day. You didn’t seem like you wanted me to _ .”

“ _ I always want to talk to you...I get why you didn’t, though. _ ”

And now David felt like absolute shit. He typed out, “ _ I miss you _ ,” before deleting it, then typing it out again and sending it before he could change his mind. He did. He missed Jack.

The response came immediately. “ _ I miss you too _ ”

David didn’t realize how heavily that had been weighing on his mind until the weight lifted. Jack missed him. He missed Jack. “ _ We’re okay? _ ”

“ _ Yeah, we’re okay _ ”

Thank god. David let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Returning to his room, he texted, “ _ I want to see you. _ ”

“ _ Shit, I’m sorry baby, I’ve got a shift at the auto shop tonight. _ ”

“ _ Tomorrow? _ ”

Before he received a reply, David walked back into his room and into a wall of crazy roommate.

“There you are,” Oscar said as soon as Davey walked through the door.

“Dude where did you go?” Morris added.

“You’re sudden concern for my wellbeing is touching, really,” David said, trying to get past them.

“Hang on, hang on,” Morris continued, stepping very specifically in David’s way. “We’re tryna help!”

David backed off, cringing. He had reached his confrontation quota for the week.

“So we got this party tonight, yeah?” Oscar chimed in. “And honestly you’ve been super lame lately. No offense.”

“None taken,” David grumbled.

“We wanna help you out,” Morris said. “It’s gonna be super low key, just a couple DKE guys, no big deal.”

David realized he was fighting a losing battle. They weren’t going to drop it. He gritted his teeth. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“See, was that so painful?” Oscar smirked.

“Yes. May I work on my paper, now?”

He laughed. “Who says ‘may’?”

“Oh, for God’s sake...” David darted around them and returned to his desk before they could stop him.

They snickered, whispering between themselves for a moment before returning to their own desks. David resisted the urge to flee the room again and checked his phone to see if Jack replied.

And indeed, he had. “ _ I’d like that _ .”

“Hey, Dave,” Morris called across the room, still stickering, “you decide yet?”

God help him. David slammed his hands on his desk. “Fine. God. I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still reading this thing...stop.


	28. Friday the Third-teenth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey goes to a frat party with the Delanceys and Race wants "pretzels."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We saw CATS live on tour last night. It was a spiritual experience.
> 
> Here is our dreaded chapter 28. You have one more chance to get out of this story unscathed, and it's right now. It's not too late to backspace to safety.
> 
> We're going to hold each other's hands and post this now.

David Jacobs had gone to exactly one party in high school, at Sarah’s demand. The music sucked, everyone else got drunk off their asses, and David finally convinced Sarah to leave about fifteen minutes before the cops got called. Why on Earth he agreed to go to another with the two biggest jerks at NYU, he had no idea.

As they approached the frat house, he could feel more than hear the baseline of the music buzzing through the ground. He wondered if it was too late to change his mind. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would only go partially deaf. Both Oscar and Morris has been eerily friendly and cheerful the whole way there, and—shockingly—they didn’t immediately ditch him once they actually got inside. Instead, they dragged him to the kitchen, ineffectively introducing him to seemingly random people on the way.

The inside of the frat house was as awful as David expected—loud, dark, cramped, dirty, stinking of weed.

“Is this supposed to be enjoyable?” he shouted over the noise. They either didn’t hear him, or chose to ignore him. Morris was talking to some tall, blond, brick shaped guy, who was the perfect stereotype of ‘college football frat boy’. The guy grinned at David and briefly moved to the counter, which was laden with various bottles and plastic cups, before coming back over to shove a drink into his hand.

“What is this?” David asked.

The guy yelled something towards his ear, but the words were lost to the cacophony around them. He clapped David on the shoulder, still grinning, and disappeared into the crowd. David wasn’t sure if he should accept a drink from mysterious brick man, but he  _ had _ watched him make it, so he reluctantly took a sip. It was god awful. It tasted vaguely like lemonade, but mostly bitter, like David imagined being punched in the mouth would taste like. Oscar, who also had a drink in his hand now, shouted something that sounded vaguely like ‘meet friends’ but could easily have been something entirely different. He gestured for David and Morris to follow him and pushed into the crowd, heading towards the living room. Or maybe it was the dining room? It was hard to tell, seeing as every available surface was covered with people and drinks and some food here and there. David clutched his cup of what might have been water from the River Styx close to his chest, trying not to spill it as he shouldered through the crowd with Oscar in front of him and Morris right behind. He couldn’t even tell what song was playing, what with the volume being what it was; he could only feel the bass drum resetting his heart beat every second or two. He wondered if this was what overstimulation felt like.

Oscar led them up to a small group of people, and interrupted whatever conversation they had been attempting to have. As he pointed at David, it was evident that he was once again being introduced to people the Delanceys knew. How they knew this many people, and how they all happened to be at this same party, David didn’t quite know. How they managed to hear each other, he also didn’t know, but he could tell from the way their mouths moved that at least a couple of them said his name. He smiled and nodded politely, undoubtedly looking like a newborn giraffe trying to walk immediately after falling six feet and landing on its head in a pile of bodily fluids. He certainly felt like that.

And so a rhythm developed. The Delanceys would move from group of people to group of people, introduce him, have some sort of short, loud conversation, and then move on. They stopped occasionally to refill or get new drinks, making sure that David was well supplied as well—which wasn’t hard, because David drank exceedingly slowly to avoid getting drunk, although he imagined the only way to enjoy such an event would be to do just that. This pattern of inaudible introductions and awkwardly hanging on the edge of conversations continued for an agonizingly slow forty-five minutes, when suddenly a shrill and exceedingly loud voice cut through the room, providing the first properly discernible sentence of the evening.

“ _ It’s Davey! Holy shit, Jack’s Davey! _ ”

Oh no.

There were shouts of protest and irritation as one Racetrack Higgins shoved his way through the throng of drunk college kids to plant himself in front of David, who had turned around to brace for impact head on.

Race gasped. “Ohmygod look at you!” Another gasp. “You’re  _ out! _ And you don’t have a book or anything!” Yet another gasp. “Ohmygod I’m so  _ proud _ of you!”

David nervously scanned their surroundings. “Yeah, I’m out,” he hissed, “but I’m not  _ out _ , so for the love of god, can you not call me ‘Jack’s Davey’?”

Race waved his hand dismissively. “Shh, you’re fiiiiine, stop worrying so much.”

Unsurprisingly, Race’s boisterous entrance had attracted some attention. Oscar and Morris—who, David remembered, knew Race somehow and did not like him—were looking at him with clear distaste. Race noticed their presence and glanced back and forth between them and David for half a second before addressing them.

“Alright. Thanks, boys. I’ll take it from here.” He reached out and took ahold of David’s arm.

Morris glared. “Fuck off, Higgins.”

Race smiled sweetly. “Sure thing. Let’s go Dave.”

He didn’t make it more than a step, as Oscar had gotten in his way.

Race looked him up and down briefly. “Dude, what’s your problem?”

“You are, you little shit. Now beat it.  _ Davey _ doesn’t need to be hanging around a faggot like you.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Oscar,” Race snarled. “Though, if you were a bit prettier, I might consider doing it myself.” He winked, grinning like The Cheshire Cat.

It was clear that Oscar was about to take a swing at Race, but Race had already ducked to his side and darted into the crowd, dragging David with him.

“Shit shit shit,” David mumbled the whole way. “Race, what are you doing? Those are my roommates.”

Race waved dismissively again, continuing to bob and weave unnecessarily. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

After pulling David through another room, Race paused at a card table, also covered in bottles and cups, to get himself a new drink. “Y’want one, Dave?”

“No, thanks.” David set his own cup down and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m here.”

Race glanced at him before taking a short drink. “Yeah, man, what the fuck? I figured you spend all your time,” he waved his hand, gesturing at nothing, “like, in the library. Or else in Jack’s bed.”

David grumbled. Race wasn’t too far off, after all.

Race took a drink. “So, is this your first, then?” Another drink. “Party, I mean.”

“Second,” David said. “First in college.” He picked his drink back up, just to have something to do with his hands.

With an angry squawk, Race grabbed the cup out of his hand and threw it into a relatively nearly houseplant.

“ _ Fool! _ ” He shouted. “Party one-o-one, man. You looked away!” He pointed aggressively towards the now dripping plant. “That’s dead to you, now.”

David sputtered. “Race, I’m right here!”

“So!?” Race rested a hand heavily on his shoulder, looking intently into his eyes. “David—can I call you David?—David, I’m not sure if anyone’s told you before...” He took a breath and continued, voice surprisingly even and serious, compared to mere seconds before. “You’re pretty. Like me, but different. And pretty boys like us? People want that shit, so you gotta be  _ careful _ .”

“Right...” David had a hard time believing that, but okay. “Thank you?”

Race nodded and clapped his shoulder once, then awkwardly slung his arm around the taller boy’s shoulders. “Don’t worry; I gotcha. I’ll show you all the ropes, and we’ll have you partying like a champ in no time.”

Well, David supposed it was better than trailing along behind Morris and Oscar, all night.

Following Race was...chaotic, to say the least. Growing up reading every book he could get his hands on, Davey had encountered his fair share of stories about mischievous faeries that would lure unsuspecting mortals down into the fae world, usually to imprison them for some nefarious purpose, or maybe just to keep as pets. Going through a frat party with Racetrack Higgins for a guide was a lot like how David had always imagined a fae kidnapping to be. He had thought the Delanceys knew a lot of people, but that was  _ nothing _ next to Race. He was constantly chattering, only pausing here and there to take a drink, or drop a sloppy kiss on someone’s forehead or cheek. He knew  _ everyone _ , pointing as they went to people and listing names that slid right back out of David’s head almost before they went in. It got harder and harder to tell when Race was talking to David, and when he was talking to someone else.

At some point along the way, David got another drink just to dull the chaos a little. He was careful not to let himself get really drunk. Race, on the other hand, was not careful. The poor kid was a mess. David had lost count of the number of cups and bottles that took brief tours in Race’s hands, but the number was definitely ‘a lot’.

“Never dance to Katy Perry,” Race said seriously, slinging an arm over David’s shoulders again. His breath reeked of alcohol. “Only sluts dance to Katy Perry. Gays dance to ABBA. Everyone dances to Shakira.”

“I don’t dance at all, Race.”

“Oh. Well, don’t worry, we can work on that,” he assured, as if this was something David would be worried about.

“Thanks, Race,” David sighed, resigning himself to his fate. He carefully looked over his increasingly intoxicated companion. “Do you need some water or something?”

Race scoffed, clearly in need of water. “Nah, I don’t need water, I need  _ pretzels _ .” Race once again grabbed ahold of David’s arm and dragged him into the crowd as he began his hunt for snacks.

About half an hour later, after searching the entire house twice and not finding any pretzels, Race collapsed in the middle of the floor and cried.

“What kind of  _ party _ doesn’t have  _ pretzels!? _ ” he wailed. At least, that’s what that garbled mess sort of resembled.

David knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “There’s, uh, potato chips?”

“I don’t want potato chips!” Race continued wailing. “It’s not the same! Chips can be nice, but I don’t  _ want _ nice, I want pretzels!”

Dave got the feeling that Race was upset about a little bit more than just snack alternatives.

“But...pretzels aren’t...an option?”

This just made Race cry harder. “It’s not  _ fair _ .”

“Okay.” David pulled him into a lopsided semblance of a hug, hooking his arms under Race’s and trying to pull him to his feet. “I think you need to go home.”

“Nooo,” the boy protested weakly, clearly determined to continue crying in the middle of the floor at a frat party.

David huffed, struggling with Race’s dead weight. The poor guy had gone completely floppy. “Yeees.”

He decided to take another course of action and let Race slump back to the floor. Who could he call at nearly two in the morning to come get Race? His immediate thought was Spot Conlon. He had Spot’s phone number, since Spot was his RA, and Spot and Race were...well, what exactly were they? Were they even really a thing? After all, Spot was  _ David’s _ RA, not Race’s.

David sighed and knelt down by Race again. “Race, may I use your phone?”

A half hearted giggle came through the tears. “Who the fuck says ‘may I’?” With a little bit of trouble, Race fished his phone out of his pocket, handing it over to David.

Albert was Race’s roommate, so Albert was the one who would have to— Oh, shit. Password. What would Race have as a password? David tried ‘one-two-three-four’, and to both his horror and amusement, was rewarded with Race’s home screen. Holy shit, did that boy have a lot of apps.

After a minute of searching, he found Race’s contacts, and he prayed that Albert was saved under something remotely resembling his name. In fact, he was saved under ‘Albieee’ with every heart emoji known to man. David called him.

Surprisingly—considering the late hour—the phone only rang twice before Albert picked up. “Race?”

“Uh, it’s David, actually...”

“Who— oh, Jack’s David?”

In spite of himself, David chuckled. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Right. Uh...what’s up? Why’re you on Race’s phone?”

“Race is...” David glanced down at the blubbering heap on the floor. “He needs to go home.”

Albert snickered. “Already? Wow, he must’ve been going pretty hard tonight.” He sighed, and David could hear keys jingling in the background. “Alright, where are you guys?”

As David opened his mouth to answer, he realized that he actually had no idea where they were. His roommates had driven him. He hadn’t questioned it. “Uh, here, give me a second.” He quickly returned to Race’s contacts and shared their current location with ‘Albieee’.

“A’ight, cool. Says I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Thanks. And if you happen to have pretzels, he’s currently on the floor sobbing about pretzels.”

Albert sighed the long suffering sigh of one who has lived with Anthony Higgins for two years. “See you in twenty.”

A very long twenty minutes followed. Eventually, David spotted a familiar red-headed figure shoving through the crowd. It was his snapping and swearing at people as he passed, more than his appearance, that David recognized. They made awkward eye contact, with David smiling apologetically, before Albert saw Race on the floor. He groaned, hanging his head for a moment before approaching. He nodded a greeting at David, then gently kicked Race in the ribs. Race seemed to have cried himself out by this time, but he was still ragdolled on the floor, and he whined loudly when Albert kicked him.

“Come on,” Albert said, “get up, we’re going home.”

When there was no response, he groaned again, louder, and crouched down to hook his arms under Race’s, dragging him to his feet. He had a much easier time of it than David had.

“Do you need help?” David asked. “I can—”

Albert shook his head. Having leveraged Race to his feet, he turned him to face him and, keeping ahold of one arm, crouched down and looped his free arm around one of Race’s legs, straightening again and pulling him up across his shoulders. “Nah. I got ‘im. Thanks, though. ‘S a good thing you called when you did; my phone just died and uh...” He suddenly looked more solemn than David had ever seen him. “You know, thanks for lookin’ out for him and all that.”

David nodded. Albert jerked his head a bit in lieu of a goodbye and began maneuvering through the crowd again, using Race across his shoulders a bit like a battering ram.

Suddenly alone for the first time that night, David let out a low breath as he spun around, searching for a familiar face. Surely, Morris and Oscar were around somewhere. He pushed back through the crowd to the kitchen, first. The only face he even vaguely recognized there was that of mysterious brick man, who was clearly intoxicated and having an intense conversation with an equally intoxicated woman. Feeling awkward, David made himself a drink, figuring at the very least he could carry it around and look like he had the slightest idea what he was doing.

As he searched the house for any sign of his roommates, he found himself wondering if he was the only sober person there. He had paced himself such that what little alcohol he had consumed barely affected him, while everyone else seemed to be at least moderately inebriated. He ran into exactly one other seemingly sober guy as he made his way down a thin hallway—literally ran into him, in fact, sloshing his drink onto the guy’s shirt. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry about it.” The other guy smiled before moving on.

David took a deep breath, realizing he was starting to panic. The Delanceys wouldn’t just leave without him.

Unless, that is, they figured he was Race’s problem.

Okay, fine, maybe alcohol wasn’t such a bad idea. David took a drink from his slightly-crushed cup, and he swore the lemonade concoction tasted even worse than it had earlier. He allowed himself to hide in the back of the hallway for a few minutes, just long enough for the alcohol to start to take the edge off, before returning to the living room. The majority of people were there, so it stood to reason that his roommates were most likely to be there. People were beginning to clear out, but the living room was still crowded and disorienting. David was tired. He wanted to go back to the dorm and sleep, but he didn’t have any way to get there unless he found his roommates. He supposed he could call an Uber, but surely he would find Morris and Oscar soon.

He bumped into someone in the throng and stumbled into a nearby couch. Holy fuck, he was tired. That, or the lemonade concoction was stronger than he thought. He leaned against the side of the couch and squeezed his eyes shut as the world started to spin. What the hell was happening? Was he about to have a panic attack in the middle of a frat party? Hey, on the bright side, that would attract enough attention for his roommates to finally find him. He sat down on the floor and groaned. What was that breathing exercise Sarah always told him to do? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t think. He tried to stand up, intending to return to the kitchen for some water, but he immediately fell back down. He paused. Something was wrong. He felt  _ wrong _ . He pressed himself back into the corner created by the side of the couch and the wall, out of everyone else’s way. He didn’t understand. He hadn’t had that much to drink, but the world kept getting farther and farther away.

He reached for his phone and fumbled with it. He needed help. He needed to get out. Something wasn’t right. ‘This doesn’t happen to boys,’ he thought, and he knew it was stupid as soon as it crossed his mind. With shaking hands, he called Jack. He pressed the phone to one ear and covered the other with his palm. “Please, please, please, Jacky, please—”

* * *

It was about one forty-five am, and Jack couldn’t sleep. Insomnia wasn’t anything new; between the years of conditioning to be always on guard and the nightmares, Jack had always had trouble sleeping. Tonight, adding to the usual frenzied pace of his thoughts, he was over-analyzing the texts between himself and Davey from earlier that day. They hadn’t talked in three days, and Jack didn’t like that. He didn’t want to seem clingy or codependent. He knew that at least  _ some _ time apart is healthy in any relationship, but switching from being constantly together and texting every minute they were apart to radio silence was rough to say the least.

Jack shifted around in bed, unable to find a comfortable position to settle into. Was Davey trying to put some distance between them? Step things back? He hadn’t even texted him goodnight...he  _ always _ texted him goodnight…Well, except for the past three days, but after their conversation earlier, Jack had hoped things would be back to normal.

“Why are you awake?” Crutchie’s slurred and sleepy voice came from across the room.

Jack winced a little. Crutchie was a light sleeper, and that plus restless sleeper was often not a good combination. “Shit, did I wake you up?” he asked quietly.

“Yep. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, shifting around again. “I’m just being dumb.”

“You’re always being dumb. That doesn’t always keep you up until two in the morning.”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah okay.” He sighed again. “I’m just worried about Davey.”

Crutchie sat up. “Why?”

Jack flopped flat onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Well, we had that fight, and then we didn’t talk for three days, and then we barely talked today.” He paused for a moment, frowning at the ceiling. “He didn’t text me goodnight, which is weird, ‘cause he always does, except for these past couple of days. I thought things were gonna be normal again, since we talked...”

“Jack, Dave’s crazy about you,” Crutchie said. “One fight isn’t gonna change that.”

Jack sat up, swinging his legs off the bed and bending a little to rest his forearms on his knees. “It might though...”

Crutchie raised one eyebrow. “Come on. You said he asked to see you tomorrow.”

“Well yeah, but what if that’s not a good thing?” He sighed slowly. “We argue kind of a lot, Crutchie. What if he’s decided I’m not worth it? And I couldn’t really blame him if he did. I’m...” he gestured vaguely in front of him and at himself, as if his past were a visible and tangible thing.

Crutchie blinked. “You’re what?”

Jack glanced up at him through his lashes, face still mostly aimed at the ground. “A disaster?”

“Sure, but you’re  _ our _ disaster, and we love you.”

He rolled his eyes, not quite smiling. “Well yeah,  _ you’re _ legally required to.”

“Pffffft, that ain’t how that works.”

“Yes, it is. I have the paperwork up on the shelf in my closet.”

“I never signed anything that says I have to love you.”

“Ex- _ cuse _ me, but you did.” Jack got up and moved over to the closet, only stumbling a little in the dark. He slid the door open and pulled on the little string to click the light inside on. He pulled a box down off the top shelf, above the clothing rod, and spent a minute or so rummaging around in it. “Ah-ha, here it is.” He pulled out an old, creased sheet of paper, holding it up to display some pretty bad handwriting in blue crayon. “I, the undersigned, hereby declare myself as brother to the other. To always look out for each other. To protect and love one another, as family, forever.” He pointed smugly to the bottom of the paper, indicating two incredibly sloppy signatures, with a faded reddish brown fingerprint next to each. “Sealed it in blood and everything.”

“Oh my god,” Crutchie giggled. “I can’t believe you kept that.”

Jack smiled, but felt a pang in his stomach as he spoke. “Well, yeah. I had to, so’s you couldn’t leave me behind or run off.”

“Like I would ever.”

“Exactly, you can’t, cause it’s illegal.” Jack grinned, returning the paper to its box, and putting it back up on the shelf.

Crutchie smiled wanly. “You saying I should have taken you to court when you ran away?”

Another pang, this one more guilty. “I mean, you could have. With the contract, you’d’ve had a leg to stand on.” He snorted at his own joke.

Crutchie threw a pillow at him, and Jack laughed, catching it and throwing it back. He moved back to his bed, flopping over again.

Resuming his staring contest with the ceiling, he let out a long exhale. “I dunno man, I just...what if he’s hit his limit, yknow?” He looked over towards Crutchie as he continued. “Everyone ‘cept for you ‘s always either sent me away, or left.”

“Do you really think Dave’s going to do that?”

He hesitated. “I hope not...”

“I didn’t ask what you hope,” Crutchie said. “I asked what you think.”

“Man, I don’t know,” Jack groaned. “I thought things were pretty solid, and now he’s barely spoken to me in three days.”

“Jack,” Crutchie turned his body to face him, “I love you, man, but get a fucking grip, would you? It’s going to be fine.”

Jack grimaced. “I know. Something just feels...off...”

Crutchie frowned. “What are you afraid of?”

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted as his phone rang. Startled, he glanced at the clock sitting on top of the dresser—two-twelve. Who on earth would be calling at two in the morning? He picked his phone up off the little end table by his bed and saw Davey’s caller I.D. light up across the screen. He felt the usual delight one feels when seeing a call or message from that one specific person you’ve been waiting on to contact you, but mostly, he was filled with apprehension, and a little bit of fear. It wasn’t like Davey to fall into radio silence for three days. It wasn’t like Davey to not text goodnight. It wasn’t like Davey to call at two in the morning.

Jack cast a short, slightly panicked look at Crutchie, and swiped to accept the call. “Dave...?”

“Jack!?” Davey shouted over a dull roar of noise.

Jack frowned, wildly confused and concerned. “Yeah? I’m here. What’s going on?”

“Jack, I’m really scared.” Davey was slurring his words, and what he said next, Jack couldn’t quite make out.

Jack was instantly on his feet. “Where are you? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” Davey cried. “My roommates convinced me to go to this party and I feel really sick and I didn’t—” His words dissolved again, this time into a desperate stutter.

“Whoa whoa whoa, hang on, babe, slow down. You’re at a party?”

“Jack,  _ please _ . I’m scared. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Okay, it’s okay, I’m here.” Jack could feel panic rising in his throat. “Do you know where you are? I’ll come find you, where are you?”

Davey, it seemed, was past listening. “I didn’t drink that much, Jack. I don’t get it. I don’t—”

“Davey? Davey. I need you to listen to me, okay? Can you hear me?” Every muscle in Jack’s body was coiled, ready to run the second he knew where he was. “Take a breath, okay? I need you to keep breathing.” Jack was struggling to keep his voice low and calm. “Do you know where you are? Where the party is?”

“No,” Davey said. “No, I—I don’t. I— Jack?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“I think I’ve been drugged.”

Jack’s blood ran cold, and he had trouble breathing for a second. It felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, except he’d been punched in the stomach before, and this was worse. “O—okay… You’re gonna be okay, alright? It’s gonna be fine. You said your roommates took you; do you know where they are? Is there anyone there you know?”

“I can’t find— No, wait.”

“Okay…?” Jack was still having a bit of trouble breathing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Davey repeated, becoming increasingly frantic, and Jack realized that Davey wasn’t talking to him anymore. “Please leave me alone. I don’t—”

Jack’s jaw dropped and absolute terror filled him. “Dave? Dave, what’s happening? Davey!?”

“ _ Jack! _ ” Davey’s voice got quieter, as if he’d moved farther away from the phone, and the line went dead.


	29. Heavy Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack, Crutchie, and Spot try to find Davey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...sorry?

Jack couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He stood frozen in abject horror, still holding his phone to his ear.

“Jack?” Crutchie asked tentatively. “What just happened?”

It took a second for Jack to be able to form words again. When he spoke, his voice was flat and barely above a whisper. “Davey’s roommates took him to a party. He thinks he’s been drugged. And someone just dragged him away from his phone.”

Crutchie gasped, “What?”

“I need to find him...”

Crutchie nodded, pushing himself up and grabbing his cane from where it leaned against his bedside table. “Should we call the police?”

“It’s Friday night in New York. God only knows how many parties are going on tonight.” Jack took a shaky breath. “We don’t know where he is.”

Crutchie ran a hand through his hair. “Oh my god...”

Jack remained motionless, trying his damndest to think instead of bursting into tears. His head snapped up suddenly. “Spot. Spot’s their RA.”

* * *

It took Spot Conlon approximately seventeen hours to answer his door. At least, that’s what it felt like. Every moment spent standing still was another moment Davey spent god knows where going through god knows what. Jack was considering kicking the door in when it finally opened to reveal a concerned, then angry, then concerned again Spot Conlon.

“Is this about Race or David?”

“Where’s Dave?” Jack demanded, talking over the last three quarters of Spot’s sentence.

Spot frowned. “He’s not here?”

“Fuck,” Jack hissed under his breath. “His roommates took him to a party, and he just called me. He thinks he’s been drugged, and someone dragged him away from his phone.”

“Woah, I’m sorry...” Spot shook his head. “ _ What? _ ”

“You fucking heard me,” Jack snarled. “We have to find him.”

Crutchie threw a hand in front of Jack in a feeble attempt to reign him in. “Do you have any idea where he might be?” he asked Spot.

Spot shook his head again. “Race was at a party. Maybe he knows.”

He disappeared into his room, leaving the door open for Jack and Crutchie to follow. They did, and Jack immediately began to furiously pace the room, wringing the hem of his tshirt between his hands.

“Jack,” Crutchie said softly, reaching out to him, “breathe. We’ll find him.”

Jack didn’t seem to register Crutchie’s words, but he stopped pacing when his hand landed on his arm. He stood, still twisting his shirt, staring at Spot as he opened his contacts and presumably called Race, then called Race again, and again.

“Fuck.” Spot threw his phone down. “Try Albert.”

Jack pulled his phone out, opening his contacts and hitting Albert’s number. It went straight to voicemail, and Jack exclaimed wordlessly in frustration. “Straight to voicemail. His phone is dead.”

“Goddamnit.” Spot sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at the floor, evidently deep in thought.

“We have to do something,” Jack said, having trouble keeping his voice even.

“I know. I’m thinking.”

Jack hissed, and started pacing again. “We can’t even call the fucking cops; we have no idea where he is.”

“Okay,” Spot stood back up and stepped into his path. “How long ago did David call you?”

Jack glanced at his phone. “About half an hour...”

Spot and Crutchie looked at each other, both of them deflating.

“This time of night, the party’s probably over,” Spot said.

Crutchie nodded barely. He looked like he was going to be sick. “Half an hour is a long time.”

Jack bit his lip, hard, Focusing on the sting and the metallic taste in his mouth rather than the impending tears and thoughts that were threatening to knock him over. “We could still...”

Spot and Crutchie looked at him expectantly, but he didn’t have a conclusion for that sentence. He barely even registered that he was the one who had said it. Noises were getting to be a bit too loud, and he gripped the edge of his T-shirt tightly, nearly ripping it as he twisted it between his hands. He was barely able to keep breathing, let alone keep it even. He had to find Davey. He had to. But he had no way of even finding out where he was, let alone getting to him.

God...he must be so scared…

Crutchie’s cane clattered to the floor as he dropped it and hugged Jack tightly. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said, sounding entirely unconvinced of that fact but saying it anyway. “We’re gonna find him, and he’s gonna be okay.”

Jack was shaking, hands clenched into such tight fists at his sides that his knuckles were pressed white. “He could be anywhere. We don’t even know what’s happening.” He took a shaky breath, and tears began to fall. “He could be  _ hurt _ .” His voice broke, and he bit his lip again, shutting his eyes tight.

Up to this point, Jack had been holding himself together pretty well, all things considered, but he was losing his grip on his composure, and he was losing it fast. He didn’t want to break down in front of Spot. He didn’t like people seeing any weakness in him, but it was a little too late for that, as tears began to fall in earnest. He pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to physically prevent himself from crying.

Crutchie squeezed him tighter, and Spot let out a heavy sigh. All they could do was wait.

* * *

Minutes passed like hours, and hours passed like years. Jack had slipped into an almost catatonic state, occasionally punctuated by attempts to get up, to leave, to go looking for Davey. Spot and Crutchie had stopped him ever time, reminding him that that was, in fact, a terrible idea. Eventually, those efforts stopped, and Jack simply sat on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. At first, he had curled in on himself, shutting out the world, shutting down, listening to the deafening, tireless panic that thundered in his head. Crutchie, ever his comfort, soon went to his side, and forced his way through Jack’s defenses, much like a Saint Bernard trained to break panic attacks. Spot was on his bed, but none of them were sleeping. 

At five a.m.: Crutchie was curled up with his head in Jack’s lap, and Jack was running a hand through his hair, staring unseeingly ahead.

At six-thirty: Campus began to wake up. Quiet voices could be heard, doors opened and shut, the elevator dinged. Still, Jack, Crutchie, and Spot stayed unmoving.

Quarter-to-eight: Jack had abandoned checking his phone long ago. No one had spoken for the past hour. No one had slept. Jack’s phone rang, and for a moment, he didn’t even register the sound. Then, it rang again, and Jack stopped breathing again. He surged to his feet, displacing poor Crutchie, and momentarily fumbled as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He didn’t realize he was crying until he had to blink through tears to see the caller ID.

‘Davey’.

He answered the call immediately. “Dave!? Davey, are you there?” he gasped, shaking like a leaf.

“I—I’m not Dave,” a voice said quickly. It belonged to a man and was somewhat familiar, but Jack couldn’t place it in the moment. “I’m sorry. You were the last person in the recents.”

“Who are you? Where’s Davey?”

“At the DKE house. He’s...”

A sob broke past Jack’s lips. That wasn’t even ten miles away. He had been so close, this whole time.

“Something happened,” the man said. “He’s sick.”

Jack covered the mouthpiece with his hand, turning his attention momentarily to Spot. “DKE house.”

Spot, also on his feet, swore. He grabbed his keys, and they were out the door, Crutchie close behind.

“Can you help him?” the man asked.

“I— Yes. Yes, we’re coming.”

* * *

Jack hit the ground and was running before Spot even completed the turn into the driveway. He didn’t bother knocking—or at least, he didn’t plan to. The door was, unfortunately, locked, and he simply slammed into it, ricocheting off.

“Jack!” Crutchie shouted in exasperation as soon as Spot parked and he threw open the car door.

Jack pounded on the door, holding in the urge to just break the damn thing down. He couldn’t breathe. He was so  _ fucking _ close.

“What the fuck?” A very confused frat boy opened the door. “Dude.”

Jack shoved past him, nearly knocking him over as he charged into the house. He skidded to a stop in the entryway, looking around frantically.

Heavy footsteps thundered down the nearby staircase, and the familiar voice from the phone spoke up, “Jack? Jack Kelly!?”

He whirled around to face the stairs, his feet nearly slipping out from under him. “Yeah, that’s me!”

The man, who Jack recognized in some recess of his mind was a classmate of his, nodded. “He’s up here.”

Letting out a ragged breath, he bolted up the stairs. The man—Jake.  _ Jake _ —led him down a hallway that was much too long to a bathroom that was much too small, with mold in between the tiles, vomit on the toilet seat, and—

“Davey. Oh my god,  _ Davey _ .”

He was curled into a corner, leaning against the bathtub, with his eyes sunken in and tear tracks on his cheeks and his shirt buttoned wrong. He looked at Jack, but he seemed to be looking through him. He said nothing.

Jack collapsed, scrambling across the floor towards him, every bit of him screaming to touch him, to hold him, to make it okay. “Davey...”

There was a shuffle of footsteps in the hall, and Spot appeared in the doorway. His eyes widened. “Holy shit.”

Davey glanced up at Spot, then back at Jack, still silent, still not quite there.

“C—” Jack’s breath caught, and his voice broke. “Can I touch you?”

Davey shook his head no.

All the air rushed out of Jack’s lungs, and he quickly backed up till his back hit the opposite wall. “I’m so sorry, Davey. I’m so sorry.” He pressed a fist to his mouth.

Jack didn’t know what to do. Davey didn’t want him—of  _ course _ he didn’t want to be touched. Jack couldn’t hold him, couldn’t press the pieces back together and make everything okay. There was nothing he could do.

“David,” Spot said, kneeling down to his level, “we’re gonna get you out of here, okay? Do you think you can get down to my car?”

“I don’t know,” Davey said, and his voice was barely there, just like him.

Jack took a rattling breath, he needed to get his shit together. He needed to help Davey. It had never been this hard to mask his hurt before. “Do you want help up?” he asked softly. “I won’t touch you. You can just push on my shoulder...”

Davey was already shaking his head again, before Jack finished talking.

Spot sighed. “I know, kid. I’m sorry, but we’ve gotta get you outta here.”

Davey looked to Jack.

Jack met his gaze, and kept his voice low and soothing, even though it felt like his heart had stopped beating. “I’m so sorry, Davey. He’s right; we gotta get you home.” Jack stood up, and roughly ran the back of his hand across his face, pushing away the tears that hadn’t yet fallen. “We’ll do whatever you need us to, Davey. However you need this to work. We’re gonna help you.”

Davey hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded. “Okay...”

Jack stepped closer, so he was within reach. “No one’s gonna touch you unless you say it’s okay. I’m gonna make sure this goes however you need it to.”

“We’ll just get you to the car, then it’s hands off,” Spot agreed.

Davey nodded again and reached for Jack. Jack shifted towards him, and opened his arms, making it as easy as possible. He held very still, making sure that Davey was the one to actually initiate contact. He got a hold of Jack arms and winced as he began to pull himself up.

“Do you want me to help you, or just support?” Jack asked quietly.

Davey opened his mouth to reply, then clamped it shut, eyes widening as he stumbled into Jack. He leaned away and threw up on the floor. Jack stayed exactly where he was. His face was stone. Spot started to take a step forward to help, but Jack put his arm out to stop him.

“I’ve got him. More people touching ain’t gonna help.”

Spot nodded and backed up.

Davey’s knees buckled, and Jack reacted instinctively, catching him under his arms before he could hit the floor. Davey made a noise between a whimper and a groan.

Jack froze again, opening his hands so that Davey was supported in his arms, but he wasn’t holding onto him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Spot grimaced. “Jack, we’re gonna have to carry him.”

“Davey, is that okay?” Everything in Jack was screaming to move, to help, to pick him up and just get him out of there, but he had to make sure he felt safe.

“Jack,” Spot said more forcefully, “he needs help  _ now _ .”

Jack winced and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Davey. I’m gonna get you out of here, okay? You’re safe now, I promise.”

Moving as gently as he could, Jack pulled one of Davey’s arms around his shoulders, wrapping his own arm around his back. He bent, scooping his other arm under his knees, and lifted him up into his arms.

Davey squirmed and shook his head hard. “Put me down, put me  _ down _ .”

“We just have to make it to the car, David,” Spot said, moving away from the door.

Jack moved as quickly as he could, out the door and down the stairs, speaking gently the entire time. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s okay, I promise. No one’s gonna hurt you. I just have to get you out of here, and then no one will touch you. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. It’s gonna be okay, Davey. I’m so sorry.”

Crutchie was waiting by the front door, and his face fell in horror when he saw Davey in Jack’s arms. “Oh my god.”

Jack broke his string of murmured comforts to address Crutchie. “Crutchie, can you get the door please? It’s gonna be okay, Dave. I’ve got you now. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. I’m not gonna let anyone touch you. Just a few more seconds, baby, just hang on.”

Crutchie threw the door open and held it out of the way, dropping his cane and nearly falling over in the process.

Jack moved quickly across the lawn, holding Davey as steady as he could. “We’re almost there, you’re gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be okay— Spot, door.” He nodded towards the car as he spoke louder, back over his shoulder. “I’ve got you, Davey. I’ve got you. Just another second and I’m gonna put you down. Just hang on. Just listen to my voice. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe now.”

Spot sprinted past them and opened one of the back car doors.

As gently as possible, Jack maneuvered Davey into the backseat. “Okay, here we go, we’re here, you’re done, it’s okay.”

As soon as Davey was solidly in the seat, Jack let go. Pulling his arms away as quickly as he could without jostling him, he backed up a step, still within reach, but leaving distinct space between them. Davey was shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back against the headrest.

Jack looked at Spot. “Do we—...should we go to a hospital?”

“ _ No _ ,” Davey said, the loudest he’d spoken all morning. “No, I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

Spot groaned. “David, you’re really sick. You need a doctor.”

Davey sobbed. “No, I don’t. You can’t make me. Jack, please, I don’t want to...”

Jack nodded sharply. “Alright, he said ‘no’. We’re not going.” Spot opened his mouth to protest, and Jack spoke again quickly, looking back to Davey. “Where do you want us to take you, Davey?”

Crutchie reached the car, then. “Jack, he looks like hell. We don’t know what they gave him—”

Davey burst into tears. “No, please, I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I don’t—”

Jack stood between Davey and the other two, facing them. “We aren’t going. He said ‘no’.”

Spot took a deep breath. “Fine. No hospital.”

“What about the police?” Crutchie asked.

“We can figure that out later. Let’s get him out of here.” Jack turned to Davey again, dropping his voice to be gentler. “Where do you want to go, Davey?”

Davey wiped the tears out of his eyes and shrugged.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to go to your dorm...?”

He paused, then shook his head.

“Do you want us to take you home? Like, to your folks?”

He shook his head again.

“I’d offer to take you to Sarah, but I don’t think Spot would let me drive his car to Texas.” Jack hesitated for a moment. “You could go home with me an’ Crutchie...? You’ve said my bed is comfy, and I don’t mind taking the couch.”

Davey glanced between him and Crutchie. “Is that okay?”

Jack nodded, looking at Crutchie for confirmation.

Crutchie nodded back. “Of course.”

Jack turned his gaze back to Davey.

“Okay,” Davey said so quietly, Jack had to read his lips to understand.

Jack let out a slow, shaky breath. Davey wanted to go home with him. That meant Davey felt safe around him. But...he hadn’t been able to protect him from this. Who’s to say he could protect him from anything? Jack bit his lip, trying to quell the thought.

“Okay.” Spot rounded the car to the driver’s side. “Let’s go.”

Davey frowned as Spot took his place behind the wheel. “I’m gonna throw up in your car.”

Spot turned the key in the ignition. “Throw up in my mouth, for all I care. We’re getting you the hell away from here.”


	30. More Heavy Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the last chapter, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story won't hurt forever, I promise.

Jack just wanted it to be over. He wanted Davey to be safe, and then it would be over, and they could move forward, putting the pieces back together until what happened to Davey on the morning of April fourth faded into a distant memory.

It  _ was _ over, he told himself. Davey was here, in his apartment, sitting on the couch,  _ safe _ . But it wasn’t true, and he knew it. He knew it, just looking at him—they had brought home an empty shell and left Davey Jacobs in that godforsaken house.

Jack opened his hand at his side, grasping at nothing. A second later, Crutchie’s hand was there, and Jack held on as tight as he could.

Spot was kneeling on the floor in front of Davey, trying to reach him. He spoke softly. “I know this is a lot, but if you’re gonna press charges, there’s steps we have to take.”

Davey seemed to disappear even farther into himself, like the light behind his eyes was dimming, and Jack feared if it went completely out, there would be no getting him back.

“Give him a second to breath, jeez.” Jack took a wavering breath before letting go of Crutchie’s hand and moving to stand behind the couch, off to the side of Davey.

Spot looked up at him. “If we wait, we might not have a case,” he explained, “but if the drugs are still in his system, and if we can still get DNA evidence—”

“I know how it works, Spot.” Jack replied stonily.

“Jack,” Crutchie gently reprimanded him. “He’s trying to help.”

Jack took a breath. “Sorry...”

Davey mumbled something almost inaudibly, and Spot cautiously leaned forwards.

“What’s that, David?”

Davey mumbled again, but this time, Spot nodded.

“Okay. It’s your call. Are you sure?”

Davey nodded, and Jack could barely make out, “—just want it to be over.”

Jack felt a pang in his chest. Their surrounding circumstances were entirely different, but he still remembered what that numbness felt like...after… He wanted to make it better, to make it all go away. He wanted Davey to feel safe.

“Okay,” Spot repeated. “What do you need?”

There was a brief pause, then Davey turned his head to look at Jack. “Can I take a shower?”

As much as Jack made fun of him for his grammar, it sounded weird for Davey to word a question like that. Nonetheless, he nodded. “Of course you can. Let me go get you some clean clothes and a towel.” He pushed off the couch and walked into the bedroom, moving to the dresser to pull out a pair of light blue plaid pajama pants and a soft, gray t-shirt.

As Spot had said, if they could get DNA evidence, there was a better chance of having a case. Of finding who did this. Of making them  _ pay _ for what they’d done. At least Davey had a chance to make a case at all, but if he didn’t want to, then that was it—that was what Jack would support.

He went into the bathroom to lay the folded clothes on the counter and grabbed a towel out of the linen closet as well before returning to the living room. Spot and Crutchie had moved into the kitchen, giving Davey some space. Davey hardly reacted to Jack’s entrance, instead staring at the floor with the same hollow expression he had worn since about halfway through the car ride back to the apartment.

Jack moved to stand by the arm of the couch. “Hey...” he said gently.

Davey turned his head ever so slightly towards him, but did not look at him.

“Do you want help to the shower?”

Davey shook his head and mouthed, ‘no’.

Jack nodded silently. He felt like someone had put a metal band around his heart, and if they wound it much tighter, he would crack and fall apart. He wanted to make it better—he  _ needed _ to make it better—but he knew there was nothing he could do.

“Jack,” Crutchie said, and when Jack turned to look at him, he nodded to the spot where Jack was standing, indicating, ‘you’re in his way’.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Jack quickly moved aside.

Davey stood up slowly, listing slightly off-balance. His gaze never left the floor as he made his way into the bathroom and closed the door. The second the latch clicked, Jack sank onto the floor, just staring at the closed door.

Spot was at his side in an instant. “Jack, you okay?”

Jack startled a little, and looked at him. Crutchie was there a moment later.

Jack felt like he had deflated. When Davey left the room, he took all the air with him. Jack was still having trouble accepting that this had all actually happened—that it  _ was _ happening. He looked back towards the bathroom door. How could anyone be so cruel? How could anyone  _ do _ something like this? Jack didn’t realize he was shaking until Crutchie grabbed his hand.

“Jack,  _ are you okay? _ ” Crutchie repeated Spot’s question slower.

“I—...”

_ Was _ he? Jack shook his head, knocking the thoughts away. He wasn’t important right now. “We should focus on helping Davey.”

“Dave’s in the shower,” Crutchie reminded him. “Take a breath.”

Jack laughed weakly. “Crutchie, if I ‘take a breath’, I’m gonna shut down.”

Spot put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re allowed to shut down, Jack.”

Jack flinched and moved to stand back up, shaking his head. “Nope, can’t.”

Crutchie gripped his hand a little tighter. “Jack—”

As he straightened up, Jack gently pulled his hand away, moving towards the kitchen. “He should probably eat something, right? Get something good in his system?” He began rummaging through the pantry. “Probably nothing too heavy… Oh shit, we have tomato soup and saltines. Perfect.”

Crutchie followed him into the kitchen. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around Jack and held on tight. With a can of soup in one hand, and a wooden spoon in the other, Jack froze, trapped by Crutchie’s arms. He was still shaking, only a breath away from tears.

“He...he doesn’t need soup, Jack.”

“I know...” Jack whimpered, barely above a whisper, “I have to do  _ something _ to help.”

Crutchie sighed. “Denial isn’t helping.”

Jack’s arms dropped, and he slumped a little against Crutchie. “I don’t know—… How do I—… What  _ can _ I—...?” He couldn’t get thoughts to form coherently in his head, let alone make it out of his mouth in any semblance of a normal sentence.

Crutchie held on a little tighter. “I don’t think you can fix this, Jack.”

There was an unpleasant thud and a clatter as the items in Jack’s hands fell to the floor. Jack sank as well, unintentionally dragging Crutchie down with him as he sagged to the floor.

Crutchie tightened his hold further, gripping Jack’s shirt in his hands. “Shh. I’m here, I’m here...”

Jack collapsed sideways against him and burst into tears. He was dimly aware that Spot was still in the apartment, and he wasn’t too keen on Spot seeing him like this—he wasn’t too keen on  _ anyone _ seeing him like this—but he couldn’t stop. Tears streamed down his face and he shook with silent, broken, furious sobs.

Someone had hurt Davey— _ his _ Davey—and there was nothing he could do about it. He hadn’t been able to stop it, and now he couldn’t do anything to make it better.

Jack had his fair share of trauma—plenty of reasons to be angry at the world and everyone in it, and sometimes he was. When he went off, Jack Kelly was a force to be reckoned with. He had nearly killed a man before out of fear and rage. That man hurt him a way no one ever had before, and he got away with only what punishment Jack was able to deliver himself before being hauled off. Living on the street, Jack had quite literally fought for both his life and Crutchie’s. He knew pain and fear and anger in ways that most people were lucky enough to avoid. But he had never hurt like this, before.

As always, Crutchie was there to pick up the pieces of Jack’s shattered life. He stroked his hair, rocked him gently, and let him cry. As the minutes dragged on, Jack slowly quieted, still breathing shakily, but no longer crying. Crutchie let him go and helped him to his feet, leaning on the counter for support. He placed his hands on Jack’s shoulders. “You with me?”

Jack placed a hand on Crutchie’s, nodding. “Yeah, sorry...”

Crutchie opened his mouth to speak again, but froze, eyes going wide when the sound of the water in the bathroom cut off. Jack froze as well, and his breath caught in his chest. He felt scared. Why did he feel scared?

Spot hurried into the kitchen. “Look, he’s obviously overwhelmed, so I’m gonna go, but if you need  _ anything _ ,” he pointed at Jack and Crutchie for emphasis, “you call me.”

Jack nodded, staring dazedly at the bathroom door. Spot quietly left the apartment, and Crutchie held Jack’s hand. Jack hung on like it was a lifeline.

Finally, the door opened, and Davey stepped out into the living room. He glanced over at Jack only briefly. “Thank you.”

Jack nodded wordlessly.

There was nothing behind Davey’s eyes. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t move, just stood in place like a robot that had run out of battery.

Jack could feel that band tightening around his heart again as he looked at him. “Do—...do you want to sit down...?”

Davey blinked slowly, then nodded. He went to the armchair and sat, hugging his knees to his chest.

Jack was losing him. He could feel it. He didn’t know what to do, how to hold on, to keep him from slipping away. Breaking away from Crutchie, he walked over and sat down on the end of the couch nearest Davey. He looked at him silently for a moment, feeling the band tighten every second, and seeing Davey retreat further and further.

Finally he spoke, quiet and low. “How do I help you?”

The corners of Davey’s lips turned up into a bastardization of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You can’t.”

It felt like everything inside Jack had shattered. He couldn’t breathe, but when he spoke, his voice remained even, and calm. “Alright. Either way, I’m here for you. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’m here.” There was a pause, and he swallowed before continuing. “If what you need is me  _ not _ being here, I can do that too.”

Davey ever so slightly shrugged, and Jack bit his lip and nodded. He glanced at Crutchie, completely at a loss. Crutchie cringed into a sympathetic smile.

Jack swallowed, looking at Davey again. “We can get you set up in my bed, I don’t mind taking the couch.”

“Neither do I,” Crutchie added.

All Davey offered in response was a continued blank stare and that tiny shrug again. At least for the time being—god, Jack hoped it was just for the time being—he was gone.


	31. Shitty Tacos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two steps forward and one step back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back aboard the Pain Express. It's still shitty, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. We've added the "Suicidal Thoughts" tag, so proceed with caution.

Davey spent the rest of Saturday in a near-catatonic state, only speaking in quiet monosyllables when he absolutely had to. Around noon, he had curled up in Jack’s bed, where he proceeded to stare at the wall and go unresponsive for hours. Jack gave him space, because that was all he  _ could _ give him. Davey didn’t want food, he didn’t want conversation, he sure as hell didn’t want to be touched—there was nothing Jack could do to help. Davey, who was smart as a whip and constantly aware of everything going on around him, who noticed things as small and insignificant as the way Jack’s eyes looked when he was thinking and knew more fish facts than any one human should have crammed in their head, was completely lost to the world. Jack kept talking to him though, holding complete, albeit one-sided, conversations with him in hopes of keeping him grounded somehow. By Sunday afternoon, however, Jack was losing steam. He had barely slept in nearly three days. Davey had barely moved except to use the bathroom for a full twenty-four hours. Crutchie had gone to see Lauren, leaving Jack alone, and Jack was at his breaking point. Crammed into a corner of the couch, he was attempting to work on a project for class, but he was having trouble making any headway.

“It’s a dumb class to begin with,” he told Davey, who was curled up in the armchair, “but this project is just  _ stupid _ . Don’t get me wrong, adaptability and versatility is important, but why would anyone work specifically in someone else’s style, unless they were aiming for forgery?”

To his vast surprise, Davey shifted a bit forward to get a better look at what he was doing. Jack paused for a second and tilted the sketchbook in his hands towards him, offering a clearer view of the partially finished, many-times-erased-and-redone, cartoonish bird that covered the page.

“We each got a partner, and we have to do a short series, swapping styles.”

Davey nodded, “Your birds are better,” then sat back in the chair.

It felt like all the air had been pulled out of Jack as Davey spoke for the first time since the previous morning. Jack’s mouth was dry, and he swallowed before continuing. “Thanks… Yeah, I like doing detail work, cartoons are just sorta...” He trailed off, no longer focused on what he had been saying.

“I always thought cartoons would be easier.”

Jack let out a short, breathless laugh, not so much amused by what Davey had said—more just relieved that he was talking at all. “I guess, yeah. Simpler.”

“I like the sound,” Davey said. “When you draw, I mean. The pencil on the paper. It’s nice.”

Jack smiled softly. “I like it too...” He was desperate to keep Davey talking, to hear his voice again, like things were normal, but he was having trouble focusing on things to talk about. There was such a tumult of emotion in his head—relief, sorrow, fear, exhaustion—was exhaustion an emotion? Maybe it was more of a personality trait, at this point.

Davey glanced at him for a split second. “That was my way of asking you to continue.”

Jack laughed quietly. “Right, sorry.” He went back to his drawing, still wildly distracted and trying his hardest not to keep looking at Davey every other second.

A few minutes later, Davey quietly returned to the bedroom and closed the door. Jack didn’t hear from him again for another hour.

* * *

At about four o’clock, Jack’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Crutchie.

“ _ Hey, I’m headed back. Need me to pick anything up on my way? _ ”

Jack abandoned his three-quarters-complete cartoon and got up, heading to the bedroom door and quietly knocking. After a pause, Davey told him to come in, so he opened the door and stepped inside. “Hey, what do you want for dinner? Crutchie’s on his way home, and he said he can pick stuff up if we need anything.”

Davey was sitting on the floor with his back against the side of Jack’s bed, staring at the floor in front of him. “I’m not hungry.”

Jack nodded. “Right, ‘course not. Sorry.”

Davey’s gaze didn’t stray from the same spot on the floor. “You don’t have to knock on doors on your own apartment, you know.”

“I just don’t wanna—” Jack sighed. “I didn’t wanna be around anyone...after...so I’m tryin’ to give you space, if you want it.”

Davey shrugged.

Jack hung in the doorway, again unsure what to do or say. “D’you need anything...?”

“I should go back to my dorm. I have class tomorrow.” This sounded more like a fact than something Davey actually intended to do.

The prospect startled Jack a little. He had honestly forgotten that Monday would come, and they would have to go to class. He would have to go to work. “Are you—...d’you think you’re up for that?”

“No,” Davey said quietly.

“Do you want to just...stay here?”

A pause. “No.”

Jack winced. “Okay...what do you want to do? How do I help you?”

“I don’t know. I just...” Davey shook his head. “I can’t live like this. I can’t do it.”

Once again, Jack felt like all the air had been pulled out of him, but this was in a very bad way. “What do you mean by that?”

Davey just shrugged again.

Jack took a slightly shaky breath. “Dave, are you sayin’ you wanna...” He choked on the end of his sentence.

Still, Davey didn’t say anything. He looked so tired.

Jack steadied himself and took a deep breath. He was caught, slipping back and forth between terror and numbness, all coiled like a heavy, rotted rope in the bottom of his stomach. “You know I can’t leave you alone now, right?”

Davey nodded.

Jack nodded as well. “Alright...” There was a heavy silence before he spoke again. “Thank you for telling me.”

Davey closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Jack shook his head. “It’s okay… Well, it isn’t. None of this is. But it  _ will _ be. I’m gonna help you, Dave. You’re gonna get through this.”

Davey turned his head away. “You’re too good for me.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around. Good try, though.” Jack smiled, attempting at least a semblance of normalcy.

“I mean it, though,” Davey said. “You’re this incredible person and I’m just...”

Jack sat down, leaning back against the wall next to the door. “Nah, I’m a rotten mess. And you ain’t ‘ _ just _ ’ anything.”

“Then why’d they do it, Jack?”

Davey seemed to have surprised himself with that question. His hands started shaking, and he curled in on himself tighter. “I told them to stop. I—I kept telling them but they didn’t listen.”

Jack winced, and he could feel tears pricking behind his eyes. He wasn’t in denial; he understood what had happened, but he had been avoiding properly thinking about it. Whenever he let his mind slip that way, he could feel himself getting closer to boiling over with the sorrow, the fury, the anger at himself for not being there. This shouldn’t have happened. Not to anyone, and especially not to Davey. He pulled a hand unhappily through his hair. “People are bastards. Can’t see even a step beyond their own wants.” He sighed, dropping his head back against the wall. “There ain’t any logic in those sortsa folks. No reason. Just what they want, and what they’ll do to get it.”

Davey sobbed, and tears began to fall. “They were willing to hurt me,” he whimpered. “They were hurting me, and I couldn’t do anything about it, and no one even noticed or cared. There were so many people there, Jack, and no one helped me.”

Jack ached to pull Davey into his lap, cradle him against his chest, run his fingers through his hair, soothe the fear and the hurt, but he couldn’t. He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. “I’m so sorry, Davey.” His voice shook. “I’m  _ so _ sorry. That shouldn’t’a happened to you. If I had been there—...If I coulda—”

“I know.” Davey wiped the tears off his cheeks, but more immediately took their place. “I know you tried.”

“But you’re safe now, I promise. I will  _ never _ let anything like that happen again.  _ Never _ .”

Davey let out a huff of air that might have been a laugh. “You didn’t let it happen, this time.”

_ But it did _ . That’s what he meant, and Jack knew it. Jack had done everything within his power to help, and it hadn’t been enough. He wanted to reply, but he had nothing to say, and he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would just break down. Instead, he just sat there, back against the wall by the door, staring into the middle distance and trying to focus on the fact that Davey was there, and Davey was safe.

They sat in silence until the front door opened, and Crutchie called out, “Jack?”

Jack jerked, startled by the sudden break in the silence. “Yeah?” he called back, turning his head towards the door.

“Oh, you’re in there. I brought shitty tacos.”

Jack looked at Davey and asked him, in a quieter tone. “D’you want shitty tacos?”

“I can’t eat tacos, they’re—”

Before Davey could finish, Crutchie interrupted from the other room, “I got bean and cheese for you, Dave. I know you can’t mix meat and dairy.”

Davey blinked a couple times. “Oh. Um...okay, sure.”

Jack smiled carefully and stood, waiting a moment before exiting the bedroom.

Crutchie was in the kitchen, busy unloading three Taco Bell bags onto the counter. “Man, no offense to your boyfriend, but kosher laws are weird.”

Jack nodded somberly. “Can’t even have pepperoni on his pizza. I can’t even imagine.”

Crutchie lowered his volume substantially. “How’s he doing?” he asked.

Jack glanced over his shoulder before answering. He could see Davey through the open doorframe, still sitting on the floor, so he turned back to Crutchie and answered in a rushed whisper. “We can’t leave him alone anymore.”

Crutchie frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jack sighed. “Remember when I came back from...” He cleared his throat. “After all that shit happened to me, with the Normans and all that? How I wasn’t really...in a safe state of mind?”

Crutchie glanced at Davey through the door, then back at Jack. “You think he’s gonna hurt himself.”

“I sure as hell ain’t gonna risk that happening, whether I really think so or not.”

“But you do.”

Jack nodded slowly. “I think he might...”

“Do we need to, like,” Crutchie made a circular motion with his hand the way people do when searching for the right word, “Davey-proof the apartment or something?”

“At least the bathroom.” Jack nodded again.

“Okay.” Crutchie shoved some tacos at Jack. “Take him these. I’ll take care of the bathroom.”

Jack grabbed Davey’s tacos, as well as his own, before heading back to the bedroom. Once he came through the doorway, Davey offered him a clearly forced smile.

Jack returned it. “It’s okay, Dave. You can relax. I don’t expect you to pretend like everything’s normal.” He walked over and held out Davey’s tacos to him.

Davey accepted them with a quiet, “Thanks,” and began to eat slowly, the way one does when they don’t really have an appetite but force themselves to eat anyway.

Jack sat down against the dresser, closer to Davey but still well out of reach. He began to eat as well, hoping that some of that empty, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach was just hunger.

A few minutes later, Davey gave up after eating half of one taco and set his leftovers to the side. “Will you...” he began, picking at a loose string on the pants he was wearing. He looked up at Jack. “Will you talk to me? I need something to listen to besides...” He gestured vaguely at his own head.

Jack nodded quickly, having already scarfed down his own food. “Anything specific, or just talk?”

“Anything.”

He nodded again. “A’right.” He tilted his head back against the dresser and stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking. It’s always so much harder to think of something to say when it’s been specifically requested. He latched onto the first thing that came to mind, and went with it, hoping he’d find substance along the way. “D’you think it’s weird that me an’ Crutchie share a room?”

“No. I shared a room with Sarah when we lived here, in Manhattan.”

“Okay, cool. Yeah, lots of the guys think it’s weird, but it just makes sense for us, y’know? Growing up, we were in a room with about twenty other boys. We actually shared a bed, most of the time; there were way too many of us jammed in there. I wouldn’t know what to do with a whole room to myself.” He chuckled, more for flavor than amusement. “Plus, one-bedrooms are cheaper.” He waited a moment, to see if Davey was going to respond, and when he didn’t, Jack bit back a sigh and continued. “He’s always been my one thing, if that makes sense. The one constant, the one good, all that mushy type’a stuff.” He sighed, shifting around to get more comfortable on the floor, and winced as his spine connected unpleasantly with one of the knobs on the dresser. “We used to joke that if we were both still single at forty that we’d just bite the bullet and get married.” He chuckled quietly. “We had all sorts’a made up wedding plans. It was fun, thinking about a future and having confidence that someone would still be there in it. He’s the only one that’s ever stayed for any proper length of time.” Jack let his head loll ta bit to the side against the dresser so he could look at Davey. “I hope you stay, too...”

Davey locked eyes with him for just a moment. His cheeks flushed pink.

Jack smiled softly, and rolled his gaze back up to the ceiling as he continued. “It’s crazy, thinkin’ we only met...what, like six weeks ago?” He let out a little huff of laughter. “Imagine if Crutchie had dared me to hit on one of your freshmen, instead, jeez...” He paused a moment before continuing. “Granted, it woulda been kinda hard to try to focus on anyone other than you.”

Davey scoffed.

“No, shut up, I’m serious!” Jack replied, smiling again. “You can’t see it, ‘cause you’re too close, you’re desensitized, but Jesus, Davey. You’re just.” He held his hands out in front of him, gripping and letting go of nothing in a failed attempt to shape meaning out of the air. “I ain’t gonna lie, I didn’t really see you till Crutchie pointed you out.” He chuckled. “I’m pretty oblivious to most everything. But once I saw you...” He let out a slow breath, and a proper smile began creeping onto his face. He looked down and shook his head minutely before continuing. “See, we had this game we’d play… Crutchie would pick a target—the person he thought was most likely to give me a hard time, farthest out of my league, someone who’d get me all flustered and make me fuck up, that sorta stuff, and we’d see how long it’d take me to get their number.” He laughed lightly, reminiscing. “And damned if he didn’t pick a good target. It took me a good ten minutes to work up the nerve to walk over. Hell, I stood up to go and sat right back down at least three times. Crutchie nearly passed out, he was laughing so hard.” Jack sighed softly, glancing at Davey. “‘S a shitty, asshole-ish game, I know, but if it makes ya feel any better, yours is the only number I ever actually kept.”

Davey frowned. “Why?”

A little smile started pricking at the corner of Jack’s mouth again. “You’re the only one that was real.”

Davey glanced at him, still clearly confused, and Jack nodded in assent, shifting a bit on the floor to resettle himself before explaining, “Any a’ the others, it was just about winning, nothing else. I mean, a hook up here or there, sure, but that ain’t  _ real _ , either. Nah, they wasn’t anything solid to me. I mean, duh, I know they’re all people, and everyone has as deep and complex an existence as I do and whateva’, but...they were there and gone in an instant. Not  _ real _ .” He held his hands forward, palms up, and dropped them slightly, as if he had just caught something heavy. His eyes darted up from the floor, catching Davey’s for an instant before he looked away. “But you...you was...man, you was like opening the curtains when you slept in too late and the sun punches you in the face. You got so  _ much _ to ya, Davey.” His hands momentarily gripped at nothing in the air in front of him again, attempting to help deliver the feeling that Jack was having a hard time putting words to. “I mean, sure, you’re the smartest person I ever met, and sure as shit the prettiest, but that’s the small stuff. It’s... _ you _ .” He looked up at Davey again, and this time his gaze stayed, despite Davey’s fervent staring match with his own sock. “You’re kind and caring. God, you care so much, not just  _ for _ people, but  _ about _ things. I mean,” he tossed his hands up, almost laughing, “who the fuck knows that much about pinnipeds? Furthermore, who the fuck gives a shit about pinnipeds? You’re so  _ passionate _ about things, and you’re so  _ nice _ . I just...” He let out a small sigh of laughter, shaking his head. “I don’t know enough words to really say any of it right.”

“I think...” Davey smiled bitterly. “I think you see things in me that aren’t there, Jack.”

Jack faltered, and his face fell. Davey was hurting. He knew that, but each reminder cut and burned, and he felt guilty for being upset about it. This wasn’t his pain, his trauma. He’d had his years ago. He needed to focus on Davey, helping Davey, but he had no idea what to do. He was running on fumes.

Jack was a very tactile person, always all over his friends, and them all over him. It was their normal, and no one batted an eye any more for the cuddling than for the punching. But now that he had Davey, that wasn’t enough to run on. He wanted  _ Davey _ . He  _ needed _ Davey. Jack knew that wasn’t fair. He couldn’t put that much weight on Davey, especially not now. He had to be a rock, someone to help Davey keep his head above water. Jack had to be what he had needed and not had.

He let out a careful breath. “Well, Dave, I’m gonna have to disagree with you on that. You yourself told me that I’m the one who sees beautiful things in the world, and you see words. You got your fish facts to show off with, but I’m pretty sure I’m the leading authority on ‘Davey Jacobs is Amazing’ facts.” He saw Davey struggling to answer, clearly struggling to believe him, so he spoke up again softly. “You don’t have to agree, or believe me, Davey...just trust me.”

At that, Davey shook his head. “I don’t think I can trust anyone.”

Jack felt like everything in his chest had just turned to ice, and he struggled to take a breath before nodding tightly. “That’s totally fair...”

Davey sighed and leaned back against Jack’s bed. The light in his eyes was dimming, again. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t be. I understand.” He let out a short, helpless, entirely humorless laugh. “I actually, really do. And I know me sayin’ that don’t help. I ain’t sayin’ it tryin’ to make you feel better. I’m sayin’ it so’s you know I don’t expect anything of ya.”

“Still...” Davey’s voice sounded far away, and his eyes weren’t focused on anything in particular anymore.

Jack took a deep breath and sighed. Two steps forward and one step back—that was fine, as long as they were moving forward.


	32. Jack Doesn't Know What Parsimonious Means

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's only Monday, and things are already falling apart.

That night, Jack and Crutchie slept in the bedroom with Davey. Jack wasn’t going to leave Davey alone anymore, and sleeping on the couch really wasn’t a good set up for Crutchie’s leg. Jack and Crutchie agreed they would share Crutchie’s bed, so Davey could still have Jack’s all to himself, and so the boys settled in for the night.

At around three-forty-five am, Jack woke up. What was odd was that he hadn’t been woken by a nightmare or some loud noise; rather, it was a creeping sense of something  _ wrong _ . Jack was a pretty heavy sleeper, but his years of protecting the younger boys in the home, and subsequently protecting himself and Crutchie on the streets, resulted in a fairly strong inner security system. Crutchie was still curled up against Jack’s back, breathing deep and evenly, so, satisfied that nothing was wrong there, Jack shifted his gaze across the room to check on Davey.

But Davey wasn’t there.

Jack jerked to a seated position, looking briefly around the room to see if he was just on the floor somewhere.

But he wasn’t.

Jack’s blood ran cold. Where was he? Did he run off? Or had he snuck away to...

Blind panic began to fill Jack’s stomach, and it took a second for him to remember that he had to breathe if he wanted to do things, including but not limited to finding Davey. After a short gasp of air, entirely forgetting the late hour, and the boy asleep next to him, Jack called out, fear evident in his voice. “Davey!?”

He slid quickly out of the bed, and hurried across the room. It took two short attempts to get the door open, as the first time, in his distracted rush, Jack missed the doorknob and half punched the door frame instead. After successfully grabbing the doorknob, he quickly yanked the door open, and went to hurry into the main room. He made it about a step and a half before physically running into Davey, who let out a frightened squawk and fell back onto the floor.

Jack yelped and stumbled, not quite falling as well. “Oh shit, Davey, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” he said in a rush, reaching to help him up, but stopping short before actually making contact.

Davey took a moment to forcibly slow his own breaths before nodding. “I’m fine. Are  _ you _ okay?”

Jack nodded. “Wh—yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“What’s going on?” Crutchie asked sleepily, having been woken by the commotion.

Jack looked back at him guiltily. “Sorry, Crutchie. It’s nothing. You can go back to sleep.”

Crutchie nodded and lay back down. The poor guy was exhausted, after the last couple days plus studying.

Davey slowly pulled himself up off the ground wincing slightly. He’d fallen pretty hard. “You called for me, and you sounded—?”

Jack put his hand on the back of his neck uncomfortably, dropping his voice in an attempt not to bother Crutchie. “Yeah, sorry… I woke up and you weren’t here, so I kinda freaked out… Guess I overreacted, huh?”

“Maybe a little...”

Relief finally began to set in. Davey was there. He hadn’t run off. He hadn’t done anything stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you...again.”

Jack took a breath and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’a flipped.”

“I just couldn’t sleep, so...” Davey nodded back towards the couch, where Jack supposed he had been sitting.

Jack nodded, “Right...” then hesitated before asking, “D’you mind if I sit with you?”

Davey shook his head and moved back to the couch, sitting as close to the arm on one side as he could. Jack sat in the armchair on the other side, not daring to intrude even so far as to sit on the opposite end of the couch.

Over the next couple minutes, Davey tried to start several sentences. He failed each time. Jack remained quiet. He didn’t want to try and push a conversation if Davey wasn’t comfortable, and all evidence pointed in that direction.

Finally, Davey huffed in annoyance. “My mind won’t shut up and my mouth won’t speak.”

Jack looked at him. “D’you think writing would be better? You’re always saying English isn’t mouth stuff...”

Davey seemed to think about it for a minute, then nodded. “I could try.”

Jack nodded as well. “Hang tight.” He got up, and went back into the bedroom, moving quietly so as to avoid waking Crutchie again. He opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and sifted through his big box of pencil sets and loose pencils. He grabbed one, then fished a smaller, not-yet-used sketch pad out of the drawer. He returned to the main room, and offered the pad and pencil to Davey before sitting back down in the armchair.

Davey looked back and forth at the items in his hand before pressing the pencil onto the paper. Jack had expected a short note, a simple request perhaps, but once Davey started writing, he didn’t stop. Jack’s eyebrows went up slightly, mildly surprised, and he settled back further in the armchair, waiting curiously.

When at last Davey handed the sketchpad back to him, it was covered from top to bottom.

“ _ I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I don’t know why people treat me like an object. I try so hard to be better than that. _

_ I know you’re going to tell me that it’s not my fault, but I think I’d rather believe that it’s my fault than believe we live in a world where so many people are so cruel and selfish. At some point, the most parsimonious explanation is that I am the problem, but I don’t know how to move forward from there either. _

_ On top of all that, I hurt you. You can deny it all you want, but I’m not blind; you’re miserable, and Charlie’s miserable, and I am so sorry. You deserve so much better. You are an unbelievably good person, and I am so lucky I met you. I will never be able to thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”  _ Something after this had been furiously scribbled out. The letter ended with, _ “I wish I could be half the person you think I am.” _

Jack pressed his lips together tightly before flipping the page and quickly jotting down six words. He handed the pad back to Davey.

“ _ I don’t know what parsimonious means _ .”

Davey answered out loud, “It means ‘simple’, basically.”

Jack nodded. “Right.” He reached for the pad again, but paused. “D’you want me to write, too, or would you rather I talk?”

“You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay, well, we know I’m shit at talking, but I’m even worse writing, so I should probably just talk.” He took a moment, gathering his thoughts before he began. “Davey, starting off, I need ya to understand that yeah, I’m miserable, sure, but you didn’t hurt me. However I’m feelin’ now ain’t nothing you did. ‘Member when I told you about my shit, and you said you were heartbroken? Unless I’m wrong, that wasn’t  _ me _ breaking your heart, right?”

“Right,” Davey said almost too quietly.

Jack nodded. “Okay, so there’s that.” He glanced at the pad for a second, where it lay on the couch, before continuing. “You’re right. I  _ am _ gonna tell you it’s not your fault. How could it be?” He sighed sadly, dragging a hand through his hair. “I ain’t gonna argue with you on that now though, cause I know it won’t help anything. ‘F I remember my timeline right, everything’s kinda sharp and numb right now—all cold and ‘clear’ and that. ‘You coulda done somethin’ different’. ‘Maybe if you’d paid more attention and caught on quicker’, ‘If you just hadn’t come in the first place’, right?”

“Right...”

Another nod. “As for you wishing you were half the person I think you are an’ tryin’ to be better than an object,” he chuckled humorlessly, “I’ve toldja before and I’ll tell ya again, Dave; I’m pretty sure you’re the best person I’ve ever met, and I ain’t never gonna stop tellin’ you so. Believe me or don’t, but that don’t make me wrong. Argue if you want, even, but I’ll happily die on this hill.” He smiled tightly, suddenly not able to look at Davey anymore. “I done shit that I’m gonna regret the rest of my life. I’ve hurt people, I’ve stolen things, I’ve lied and cheated and so much else. I’m damaged goods, Davey, in every sense of the word, but you keep sayin’ you’re lucky you met me, and I’m some sort of amazing. An’ if you see that in  _ me? _ ” A small, sad chuckle. “Davey, you’re the best of all of us. You keep sayin’ I’m too good to you, or I deserve better, or I don’t deserve what’s happened to me. I don’t deserve shit, Dave. But you...you’re so much better than this fucked up, dirty world. An’ that’s why people do what they do. They see ya, all perfect and glowing, and they know they can’t be that—they know they can’t  _ have _ that—so they don’t want anyone else to, either. ‘If they can’t be good and happy, why should you be?’”

“I’m not so innocent, Jack,” Davey sighed. “That’s just a fact, so if that’s what you think redeems me—”

“Did I say you were innocent?”

“I believe ‘perfect’ and ‘glowing’ were the words you used,” Davey grumbled.

“I thought we’d already established I’m an over dramatic mess?” Jack teased half heartedly. He sighed again, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his bent knees and dropping his gaze to the floor. “I’m not good at words, remember? That’s you. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to tell you what I mean. What I see. I don’t know how to do it.” Another sigh. “I know you’re good, and I know the rest of the world ain’t. That’s all I got.”

Davey looked at him. “ _ You’re _ good.”

Jack glanced up from the floor to meet his gaze. Davey still didn’t know the whole story. That night he had told him about his past but he broke down before he could finish. It hadn’t come up again, so Jack hadn’t offered it. Davey had asked him not to lie, and he wouldn’t. But if he wasn’t asked...

Jack offered a tight smile. “Whatever I am don’t have anything to do with what you are, Dave. If I was ‘good’, that wouldn’t make you bad. Just like me bein’ bad don’t make you good. You’re good on your own.”

Davey offered up an almost comically fake, bitter smile. “I don’t feel very good.”

Jack exhaled softly, dropping his gaze to the floor again. “D’you want me to push this, or just drop it? We can talk in circles all night, and I’m more than happy to go on about how amazing you are for hours on end, but I dunno if my vocabulary would last that long.”

“No, no, I just...” Davey dropped his face into his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Jack momentarily mirrored him before looking up again, effectively dragging his hands down his face. “Baby, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Davey let out a shaky breath. “I’m being impossible.”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe a little, but don’t worry about it. I like a good challenge.”

When Davey didn’t respond to Jack’s attempt of light hearted banter, he sighed again. “How do I help you?” He asked quietly.

Davey chewed on his bottom lip. “Would you just—...” He glanced over at Jack and winced. “Would you stay here with me?”

Only now did Jack realize that he had been holding his breath for the past two days, and he just barely smiled. Davey wanted him to stay. When Davey was hurt and afraid and battered and wronged in the worst way, he had wanted to come here. He felt safe here. And now, he wanted Jack to be here, too.

“Of course I’ll stay with you. Always.”

* * *

Around the time the sun came up, Davey finally fell asleep on the couch, but not before sending a quick (and, Jack was sure, extremely apologetic) text to Spot, asking him to bring some of his things by. Even after Davey fell asleep, Jack stayed awake, curled up in the large armchair, just looking at him. He had a hard time settling in his mind that this was the same Davey, his Davey—his Davey who was always tucked up against his side, or reaching for his hand. His Davey who knew so much and never stopped talking. His Davey who would joke, and tease, and make fun of Jack’s grammar. For the past couple days, every now and then, Jack would find himself reaching for his phone, instinctively going to text Davey, or call him, seeking comfort and advice. He didn’t know what he could do, or how he could help, but Davey would know. Davey always knew...but Davey was  _ right there _ , and he didn’t, and watching him fall to pieces over and over again was easily one of the hardest things Jack had ever done.

There was a knock on the door around ten. Startling a little, Jack got up and went to the door, opening it quietly.

Spot was there with a cardboard box full of things—Davey’s laptop and phone charger, some books, some clothes. “Hey.”

Jack was too tired—more existentially tired than anything, but also pretty damn physically tired—to even try to smile. “Hey.” He stepped back a bit, letting the door swing open more.

Spot stepped inside and placed the box on the counter. He noticed Davey sleeping on the couch. “How’s he doin’?” he asked, turning back to Jack.

Jack followed him into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. He yawned, rubbing the heel of one hand against his closed eye, and then glanced over at Davey. “He’s...he’s been talking a bit, so that’s...better.”

Spot nodded. “And how are  _ you _ doin’?”

Jack just shrugged. If he was being honest, he was hanging by a thread. He’d barely slept in more than three days, and walking on eggshells around Davey was wearing him down faster than he cared to admit.

Spot sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jack smiled helplessly. “Not really.” He ran his hand back through his hair, leaving it all messy. “I just don’t know what to do, Spot. I don’t know what I  _ can _ do.”

“Well, you’re doing a lot better than I would be.” Spot looked over at Davey, then down at the floor in front of him. “Race  _ was _ there. He told me. Says he got hammered and it was David that got ahold of Albert to make sure he got home okay.”

Jack bit his lip. Of course he did. Davey was always thinking about other people, helping, putting their needs before his own. Jack found himself wishing that Race had stayed; if he had, Davey wouldn’t have been on his own…

“I am...eternally grateful for that, Jack,” Spot continued, looking up at him. “Race and I ain’t even a thing, really, but damn.” He shook his head. “I don’t need to tell you that David don’t deserve this.”

Jack smiled tightly. “Yeah, yeah he don’t...” He attempted a laugh. “Ey, at least one of ‘em got out in one piece, ‘uh?” It came out a lot more bitter than he intended.

Spot frowned. “No. What the fuck, Jack?”

“Sorry, that was...” Jack sighed heavily. “Sorry.”

Spot took a deep breath and a moment to collect himself. “It’s fine,” he grumbled, but it didn’t sound very fine. “Like I said, you’re doing better than I would be, so...” He looked back at Davey. “Damn it, Jack, he’s such a good kid. What kind of person—” He stopped abruptly and grimaced.

“You don’t gotta tell me, I know.” Jack exhaled shortly. “Believe me, ‘f I knew who it was, I’d...” He stopped himself. Probably not a great idea to talk about any sort of desired violent retribution. Spot was a friend, a  _ good _ friend, but he didn’t know much of Jack’s story, and some things are better left unsaid.

Besides, Spot clearly caught on to his meaning. “Yeah, and I’d help you.”

Jack let out another short exhalation, this one almost a laugh. “You’re a real pal, Spot.”

“Sure,” Spot chuckled. “Let me know if he needs anything else. I gotta go to class.”

Shit, class. It was Monday. Jack sighed, and nodded. “Right, ‘course. Thanks Spot.”

Spot clapped him on the shoulder briefly, and headed towards the door. Jack watched him go, and then turned his gaze back to Davey, but he wasn’t really seeing him. He’d already decided he wasn’t going to leave Davey alone—he wouldn’t risk it—but he hadn’t really put any thought into the coming week. He had class. He had  _ work _ . Jack dragged a hand through his hair again, torn. He couldn’t afford to miss work—literally—but he certainly wasn’t about to leave Davey on his own. Not after what he’d said...well, hadn’t said. The thought of losing Davey was terrifying enough. The thought of losing Davey like  _ that _ … Jack couldn’t even bear the possibility, shutting his eyes tight and shaking his head sharply, like he was trying to knock the idea out of his head. He pushed off the counter and went back to the armchair, pressing himself back into the corner. For a minute or so more, Jack just stared at Davey, trying to think of something else, anything else, but the thought kept coming back. Eventually, desperate for a distraction, he got up and went into the bedroom to fetch a sketchbook. Returning to his nest, he flipped the book open and began to draw—Davey, of course. He’d already sketched him a few times, in this same book, but he’d never had a chance where Davey stayed still long enough for him to properly  _ draw _ him.

Davey looked peaceful, in his sleep. His face and shoulders were relaxed, the way they hadn’t been when he was awake, the last few days. He looked...like Davey, again. Like  _ Jack’s _ Davey. Part of Jack was so relieved to see him like that, again; another part only saw it as a cruel reminder of what he might be losing.

Another hour passed, and Jack quietly sat, drawing, and trying his damndest not to think. At eleven-thirty, Davey made a soft noise and opened his eyes. For a precious moment, he was still himself before falling back into the muted state.

Jack closed the sketchbook and quietly set it down. “Good morning.”

“Hi, Jack.”

“How ya feelin’?”

Davey blinked. “I feel like shit. How are you?”

Jack chuckled heavily. “‘Bout the same, yeah.”

Davey sat up and looked around blearily. “What time is it?”

Jack glanced across the room to the kitchen, narrowing his eyes at the microwave. “It’s uh, eleven-thirty-three.”

“Shit,” Davey groaned. “I should have gone to class.”

Jack smiled tightly. “Me too.”

“Don’t let me...fuckin’...ruin your life,” Davey said, rubbing his eyes and standing up. “Go to class or work or whatever. I’ll just—”

Jack shook his head. “Nah, y’ain’t ruinin’ nothin’. We’re gonna take the day off, you an’ me.”

“Jack, we’re not doing anything. I don’t even want to be touched.”

Jack held his hands up. “Who said anything about touchin’? I ain’t touchin’ you. I get it, really. I uh,” he let out a tight, pained chuckle, “I didn’t want to be touched, either.”

Jack took a breath, fighting to keep his voice light, and normal. “So don’t worry about it. I’m gonna stay close, as close as you want me. And if you want me, I’m here. But I ain’t gonna start anythin’.”

Davey paused for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

“‘N you’re exactly right.” Jack continued. “We’re not doin’ anything. That’s the definition of a day off, Dave.” Jack offered a smile, but it didn’t even get close to his eyes. He was gonna pay for this, and he knew it. If he missed too much work, he’d lose his job, though he’d happily lose that and everything else he had, if it meant not losing Davey.

“How ‘bout a movie, ‘uh?” Jack suggested, already getting up to move towards the bookshelf next to the TV.

Davey reluctantly sat back down on the couch.

Jack took The Empire Strikes Back off of the shelf, and set about loading the DVD player, and turning on the tv and such. The title sequence blared onto the screen much too loudly, and Jack flailed, scrambling for the remote to turn it down.

Davey made a noise that was technically a laugh.

Jack smiled, though it was more of a cringe. “I’m sorry,” he said as one might if recovering from an attempted spit-shake with the rich son of a newspaper mogul.

“Worth it,” Davey said. “The Empire Strikes Back is the best one, after all.”

Jack nodded uncomfortably and moved back to the armchair. Hearing Davey say something so normal, so properly Davey, in that empty, lifeless voice was just...bad.

They watched the movie mostly in silence, as one tends to watch movies, making comments here and there. It seemed like Davey was really trying to find his way back from whatever dark place he had fallen into. Jack wished there was more he could do to help, aside from ‘acting normal’. As the movie went on, he valiantly attempted to look at Davey as little as possible unless he was talking. It was harder than it should have been. He just wanted to search Davey’s face for any sign of...well, Davey.

The movie ended, and Davey looked at him. “I’m hungry. Can we get something to eat?”

Jack’s heart jolted and he met Davey’s gaze. “Yeah, yeah absolutely. D’you wanna make something, or order in, or...?

“Anything’s fine.”

Jack nodded and got up, heading into the kitchen. After a brief search, he stepped around to lean on the half wall that separates the kitchen and the main room and reported his findings. “We got freezer pizza, tater tots, a whole lot of ramen, that microwave and mix Mexican sorta rice, ‘couple other things.”

“What kind of freezer pizza?”

“There’s a ‘Hawaiian’ one, but there’s ham so that’s out. We also got a veggie one, and cheese, too.”

Davey hummed, pausing for a moment, then replied, “Veggie pizza sounds good?”

Jack nodded, not really registering what Davey was saying, just happy that he was talking...and eating. Shit, it was the first time Davey had actually  _ wanted _ to eat in the last sixty hours or so. Jack rolled off the wall, back around into the kitchen, and went to fetch the pizza.

Surprisingly, Davey stood up and followed him to the kitchen. He leaned on the counter, looking wildly uncomfortable. “Do you, uh, want help?”

Jack forced a chuckle, preheating the oven. “With freezer pizza?”

Davey shrugged. “I just want to be useful.”

“‘Kay. How about I keep pressing buttons, and you get the pizza out of its plastic and onto a baking sheet?”

Davey nodded and did as he was told. He still looked like he was ready to flee the apartment at a moment’s notice. Jack continued trying to be normal, and it was a whole lot more effort than made any sense. Nothing was normal. Normal would have been grabbing Davey and hugging the shit out of him. Normal would have been going to work without worrying if Davey would be okay. Normal would be looking at his boyfriend without feeling like he couldn’t breathe. Normal would be anything but this.

After getting the pizza in the oven and a timer set, Jack hopped up to sit on the counter, gripping the edge and leaning slightly forwards. He felt like he should say something, but he didn’t know what.

Davey frowned. “Are you okay?”

Jack nodded. “Considering everything, yeah.”

Davey winced. “Are you sure you’re okay with me being here?”

Jack almost laughed. “Dave, you being here is the only reason I’m anything even resembling ‘okay’.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Davey said.

“I’d be goin’ crazy every second you’re outta my sight.” Jack let out a rough, short laugh. “I started shouting ‘cause I couldn’t find you, and you were just in the next room.”

Davey averted his eyes, blushing slightly and closing in on himself as if Jack had just yelled at him or something.

Jack felt a pang of guilt in his chest, but he didn’t really know why. Had he said something wrong? “Sorry...”

“No, God,  _ I’m _ sorry.” Davey shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything about—... I shouldn’t have told you I was feeling—...”

“No, you stop that,” Jack reprimanded him gently. “I’m glad you told me. Always honest, right?”

Davey sighed, nodding. “Always honest.”

Jack nodded as well. “Right. If I don’t get to lie, you don’t either. Sound fair?”

“Yeah, that’s fair...”

Yet another nod. “Good.”

The tension between them physically hurt, and Jack didn’t know how much longer he could hold up. He knew he’d be willing to do it for the rest of eternity for Davey, but willing is different than able, and eventually, he would crack. Davey, it seemed, was already crumbling. Jack pressed his lips into a tight line, and dropped his gaze, unable to continue looking at what little was left of his boyfriend.

Unfortunately, Davey noticed. Without another word, he returned to the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest and hiding his face in it.

Jack stifled a sigh. It was only Monday, and things were already falling apart.


	33. Disappearing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #Where'sDavey?

Tuesday was better, but not by much. Davey was talking more, but it still sounded so hollow, and Jack could barely keep it together. A heavy fog of anger and sorrow was slowly suffocating him, and he had no way to let off any steam. He couldn’t let Davey go—that was the last thing he wanted to do—but he couldn’t fall apart in front of him, either. Davey already felt bad about ‘imposing’ on Jack.

After another long night, Wednesday morning rolled around. At about six, Crutchie got up to get ready for class. Jack grumbled, only having fallen asleep about two hours ago. Crutchie shushed him, and headed out the door. Another two hours passed, and Jake woke up. He groaned, sitting up and stretching. Davey wasn’t in his bed, and there was that throb of worry, but Jack knew not to panic this time. Davey was probably in the living room, or maybe the bathroom. Jack got up and pulled jeans and a T-shirt out of the dresser. After correcting his shirt—which he had initially put on inside out—he opened the bedroom door and stepped into the main room. Davey wasn’t there either. Jack glanced to the bathroom door and saw it hanging slightly ajar, and the light was off. He frowned, and that throb of worry came back a good bit stronger. You couldn’t properly see the seat of the armchair from the bedroom door, so maybe Davey was just curled up real small. Jack moved to investigate, but stopped in his tracks.

There was a note sitting on the end table.

Jack’s blood ran cold.

_ No _ .

All the air was pulled out of him like bones from a gutted fish.

_ Davey wouldn’t... _

He felt numb.

_ This can’t be happening _ .

Jack couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe.

_ He wouldn’t do this. _ ..

Slowly, as if he were walking underwater, Jack moved towards the end table, and, shaking like a leaf, he picked up the note. It took him a moment to actually focus on the words, another to read them, and another to process. All it said was, “ _ I’m going to class. Thank you for taking care of me. —Davey _ ”

Other than the tremor in his hands, Jack was motionless. That fear and dread was still gnawing at his stomach, but now a bit of incredulity joined. Davey went to class? Just like that? Barely spoke for four days, and suddenly he’s fine and going to class? A little spark of anger kicked up in Jack’s chest. Anytime Jack had tried to suggest anything normal in an effort to help and take his mind off things, Davey had jumped down his throat, saying what a mess he was and he didn’t want to be touched. That’s perfectly reasonable—anyone would be a wreck after what he went through, but to go straight from that to just going back to class like nothing ever happened? No warning? No stopping to think about it?

Jack glared at the note. And to go like that, to just leave a note. Why the hell would he think disappearing and leaving a note behind was okay? Jack felt himself starting to get worked up, and he knew he shouldn’t be that upset. He stalked hurriedly into the bedroom and grabbed his phone, sitting down hard on his bed as he punched in a text to Crutchie.

“ _ Davey left, and I’m starting to freak out. _ ”

A text came back almost immediately. “ _ Fuck. Okay. I’m on my way _ .“

Jack dropped his phone and rested his elbows on his knees, bouncing his leg and running his hands over his face and through his hair fitfully. Did Davey even  _ think _ about what all this would look like?

Was it better or worse if he did?

Jack picked the note back up and read it again. ‘Goodbye and thank you’ was the gist; there was no ‘I’m okay’ or ‘don’t worry’ or ‘I’ll be back later.’ He glared at the note some more, at the words. Was Davey being cold on purpose? Was he just going back to his dorm and pretending none of this ever happened? Jack could understand wanting to forget, but couldn’t he at least clue a guy in? Jack wished he’d paid more attention to Davey’s class schedule. If he at least knew where he was...

Then what? Jack still wouldn’t be there. He still wouldn’t be able to protect him. He growled, dropping his head and running his hands up into his hair to grip just above his forehead. He looked up quickly when he heard the front door open.

Crutchie barreled in as fast as he could and cut right to the chase: “He just left!? Did he say  _ anything? _ ”

Jack threw his hands up helplessly and shoved the note at Crutchie. “Nothin’. He was gone when I woke up.”

Crutchie read the note and cringed hard. “Have you tried to get ahold of him?”

Jack paused. Of course, he hadn’t thought of that. “He doesn’t check his phone while he’s in class...” he said doubtfully.

Crutchie’s eyes widened. “But Chelsea does.”

Jack hissed. “Shit.” He scrambled for his phone, which he had dropped on the floor after texting Crutchie. Then, he stopped. “ _ Fuck _ , I don’t have her number.”

“I’m texting Lauren. Give me a sec.”

Jack just nodded, sitting back down and bouncing his leg, unable to be completely still.

After sending his message, Crutchie sat down next to Jack and rubbed his back. “It’s gonna be okay. He’s okay.”

Jack dropped his head into his hands again. “What if he  _ isn’t? _ An’ I don’t mean like...” He trailed off, and then quickly started again. “I mean, what if he flips out?”

“Flips out...?”

“Crutchie, for the past four days, he’s barely spoken. He’s barely  _ looked _ at me. If I breathe in his direction, he flinches. What the hell does he think he’s doing!?”

“He probably just trying his best to get back to normal, Jack,” Crutchie said softly. “Sitting around thinking about what happened can’t have been good for him.”

“I know that,” Jack snapped, and he immediately regretted it.

Crutchie, however, was unphased. He leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder and continued rubbing his back.

Jack sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just—...” He sighed ahead. “I’m scared, Crutchie.”

“I know, Jack. I’m so sorry.”

A text came in on Crutchie’s phone, and he swiped it open. His face blanched as he read it.

Jack looked up sharply. “What? What is it?”

Crutchie handed him his phone. On the screen, of course, was his conversation with Lauren.

“ _ Hey, Laurie. Will you ask Chelsea if David seems okay?” _

_ “Chelsea said David’s not in class, today” _

In that moment, Jack would’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. The air started ringing, and it felt like he was falling very, very slowly. Davey’s not in class today. Davey said he was going to class, but he didn’t, and now he could be anywhere.

“Jack, call him,” Crutchie demanded.

“I...” Jack blinked quickly a few times. Everything sounded sort of muffled, except for that awful ringing. It took a moment for him to process Crutchie’s suggestion and another to realize that he had to actually move and act on that suggestion.

Jack reached for his phone, feeling very much like he was trying to push through Jello to move at all. He opened his contacts, scrolling to Davey’s, and hit his number. Bringing the phone to his ear, Jack noticed that he was shaking a lot harder than he had been a few minutes ago. Every time the phone rang, Jack felt like he’d been shot. What if Davey didn’t answer? What if Davey  _ couldn’t _ answer? Jack bit his lip hard, tasting blood almost immediately. The ringing in the air was getting louder, and now it felt like his heart was trying to break through his ribs.

Where was he?

_ Where was he? _

Jack almost jumped out of his skin when, after four rings, he heard a click, and the sounds of New York City came through.

Then, “Hi, Jack...”

Jack tried to answer, but he only managed to take a shaky breath, and then he couldn’t get any words out. After what felt like an eternity, he tried again. “Hiya Davey...”

Next to Jack, Crutchie let out a long, relieved sigh and flopped back onto the bed.

On the phone, there was a long stretch of silence. Jack found himself unable to speak. He wanted to ask Davey where he was, what had happened, but he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to even start.

Finally, Davey broke the silence. “Jack?”

Hearing Davey say his name was like finally breaking the surface after being stuck underwater. “Yeah?” It was more of an exhale than a word, and it hurt.

“You’re still there. Okay.” Another pause. “Wh—why are you calling?”

“Yeah uh where—...where are you?” Good, that didn’t sound at  _ all _ possessive or crazy.

“I’m, uh...I’m at Madison and St. James.”

Jack ground his teeth a little bit. Davey was being so casual about this; did he not realize he’d nearly scared Jack to death? “Are you alright?”

Davey let out a breathy chuckle. “Could be worse.”

Jack smiled tightly, pressing his teeth together hard enough that he felt as if they might crack. “That’s good, I guess.”

“...Are  _ you _ alright?” Davey asked meekly.

Jack exhaled roughly. “Could be better.”

Davey sighed, and Jack could practically hear him cringing. “I’m sorry, Jack. I just— I couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t what?” he asked, colder and flatter than he had intended.

“Stay.” Davey’s voice cracked. “I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t...look at you looking at me like that, anymore. I can’t  _ hurt _ you anymore, Jack. I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

With those words, Davey might as well have stabbed him in the chest. Jack had tried his damndest to keep up a strong outer layer, but still Davey saw through. Of course, he saw through. Once more, Jack couldn’t speak. It was as if someone was wringing his throat out like a wet towel—air couldn’t get in right, and words couldn’t get out.

“I left you a note, you know,” Davey went on after a moment. “And I didn’t lie. I really did mean to go to class, but once I started walking I just...”

“Dave, I woke up, and you were gone.  _ Gone _ . And there was a note on the table.” Jack was getting more upset, leaning a bit towards angry again. “D’you know what that looked like to me? After what you said the other day?”

Davey fell silent, and for a minute, all Jack could hear was the muffled sound of traffic through the phone.

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I didn’t think about it like that...” Davey said eventually.

Jack pressed the heel of his free hand against his eye. “Yeah, that’s what I sorta figured.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Jack. I would never.”

“I know, Dave.” At this point Jack felt just helpless. Empty and pressed flat. It seemed everything was a wrong move, pushing Davey further into that hole he was losing himself in.

Davey sobbed. “I wish you’d never met me, Jack.”

Yet again, Jack felt as though he’d been shot. “Don’t say that...” There was a tremor in his voice as he spoke.

Of course, once Davey started talking, there was no stopping him. “I’m so, so glad I met you. I don’t mean it like that. I mean your life would be so much better if I’d never set foot in it, and I’m so fucking  _ sorry _ , Jack. I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

Jack was shaking his head softly, the air felt thick, and everything seemed muffled. “No, no that’s not true.”

Crutchie placed a hand on his back again.

“Easier, then,” Davey insisted. “Your life would be easier.”

Jack exhaled weakly, not quite a broken laugh. “Dave, nothin’ in my life’s ever been easy. You’re the best thing that’s happened so far.”

Coherent thoughts were barely able to form in Jack’s mind, but still he managed to get a hold of Crutchie’s free hand and hang on tight, trying to keep himself grounded. One might think Jack would feel bad, saying that in front of Crutchie, but they both knew that Crutchie didn’t count as ‘the favorite’ anymore, because Jack saw him as a part of himself. He wouldn’t be complete without Crutchie. He needed him there...but he also needed Davey. Davey, who had run away from him and wandered halfway to Brooklyn, somehow convinced that the world would be a better place without him.

Jack took a shaky breath. “Are you still at Madison and St. James?”

Davey sniffled. “I’m closer to Pearl street, now.”

“Wait for me?”

There was a pause, and Davey spoke again quietly. “I was gonna go look at the water from th—”

Jack interrupted sharply, “Dave, I swear to god, if you take a single step onto that bridge—”

Crutchie sat bolt upright, staring wide-eyed at Jack.

On the phone, Davey stammered. “No, Jack, I’m not—”

“ _ Please _ wait.” Jack stood up, grabbing a hoodie off the floor, and moved the phone away from his face for a moment to speak to Crutchie.

“I gotta go—”

Crutchie waved him off. “Yes, go, go. I’ll be here, go.”

And Jack was out the door.

* * *

Jack found Davey exactly where he said he was, at the intersection of St. James and Pearl street. It would’ve taken him almost an hour to get there on foot, so he had reluctantly called a cab. Once he laid eyes on Davey, Jack thrust a fistful of cash at the cabbie and thanked him, already tripping out onto the street.

Davey was dressed in his own clothes—the ones Spot had brought by—for the first time in five days. He had his book bag. It looked like he really had intended to go to class, not that Jack had doubted it, but...well, there was a little bit of doubt.

Davey looked at his shoes as Jack approached, like a little kid who knew he was about to get in trouble. As always, Jack’s instinct was to touch him—catch his hand, brush his shoulder, anything. He stopped just barely within arm’s reach, and found he had no idea what to say.

Davey, still looking straight down at the ground, sighed. “Jack, I’m  _ sorry _ .”

Jack gritted his teeth. If Davey said he was sorry one more time— “Are you okay?”

Davey nodded, and Jack took a slow breath, trying to calm down. His heart was still racing.

“What uh...what happened?”

“I told you what happened.”

He grit his teeth again. “You told me you couldn’t look at me anymore, and that you were gonna go to class, but you didn’t.”

Davey winced. “I meant to go to class.”

“So, what happened?”

“I didn’t go.”

Jack bit back a sigh. “Evidently.”

This wasn’t the Davey Jacobs Jack knew. Davey Jacobs was stubborn and passionate, not downright belligerent just for the hell of it.

Davey shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me. I didn’t go. I thought I was going, but I didn’t.”

“‘What I’—? Dave I want to  _ help _ you.”

“ _ Why!? _ ” Davey snapped. “Why do you care?”

The question was painfully reminiscent of those Davey used to ask Jack, back when they first got together. Jack couldn’t help but feel like they’d just regressed a mile.

Davey went on, “I’m falling apart, Jack. I’m not much of a boyfriend. We’ve barely even spoken. I don’t want to be touched—which you can say is fine all you want, but I know you, and I know it’s driving you crazy.”

Jack threw his hands up. “So what!? So what if it’s driving me crazy? That ain’t what’s important!”

“Of course it’s important!  _ You _ are important!”

For just a moment, Davey sounded like Davey, and somehow that made everything worse.

“You’re important to me,” Davey said softly. “I can’t stand hurting you.”

“Dave, for Christ’s sake...” Jack’s voice dropped as well. All of the anger and frustration suddenly washed out of him and was replaced by a tired helplessness. “You aren’t hurting me. None of this is your fault.”

“I know, you keep saying that, but Jack...” Davey looked off, down the street. Tears glistened in his eyes but didn’t fall. “None of this is your fault, either. You should be able to touch your boyfriend, and it’s wrong of me to take that away from you when you didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

Jack’s heart broke for this poor, sweet, beautiful boy in front of him, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. Davey didn’t deserve this sort of pain, this wasn’t supposed to have happened to him.

“Davey...” When Jack did manage to speak, his voice was surprisingly even, low and gentle. “It ain’t wrong of you to not want to be touched. Yeah, I miss you, I miss holding you, but it’s okay. I swear to god, it is. I’m fine. I don’t want you to feel sorry, I don’t want you to feel guilty, I want you to feel  _ safe _ . That’s all that matters now, Davey—you being safe. If you feeling safe means me not touching you, then that’s how it’s gonna be, and that’s okay.”

Davey shook his head, disbelieving, and Jack pushed on.

“You keep sayin’ you wish you hadn’t met me, that I don’t deserve this, all that stuff. Davey, I would be  _ so much _ worse off without you. You’ve changed everything. I can’t imagine where I’d be without you,  _ what _ I’d be without you.” Jack took a slow breath and continued. “You may wish we’d never met, but I don’t. Not for a second. And I’m not going anywhere, not unless you send me away.” A helpless, hopeless laugh pushed through. “Even if I can’t ever touch you again, I still want to be with you, Davey. I love you.”

Davey’s gaze snapped onto Jack’s, his eyes wide with shock.

Jack had thought that saying it was going to be some sort of big deal. He expected butterflies or nervousness, some sort of special setting. But here, now, it had come out without him even stopping to think about it. It was the most natural thing in the world. Jack loved him.

Seeing the look in Davey’s eyes, Jack’s heartbeat stuttered. Ah. There was the nervousness.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he continued, quickly. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I don’t expect you to. If—”

“I love you,” Davey interrupted.

Jack stammered to a stop, eyes widening.

For a minute, neither of them spoke. They stood and stared at each other, frozen in time while New York continued living all around them.

After what felt like an eternity, Jack exhaled shortly, not quite a laugh, and the tiniest smile pulled at the corner of his lips. Davey tried and failed to blink his tears away as he started laughing—really, actually smiling and laughing. As Davey smiled, Jack felt an enormous weight lift off his chest, and he could finally breathe again. After a moment of stuttered hesitation, afraid that if he so much as moved he might break this moment, Jack started to laugh too.

“I love you,” Davey said again, wiping his eyes.

There was nothing Jack wanted more in that moment than to catch him, hold him tight, and never let go. Instead, he settled for properly smiling for the first time in nearly a week, and parroted right back, “I love you.”

“May I come back to your place?”

Just hearing Davey ask a question like Davey again almost pushed Jack to tears. “Of course, always.”

Davey loved him, and Davey wanted to be with him. That was more than enough to get Jack through the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 120,982 words before Jack tells Davey he loves him. Jesus Christ.


	34. Not All Heroes Are Over 5'4"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey can't hide in Jack's apartment forever.

Things were better, after Jack and Davey finally confessed to loving each other. Jack stopped treating Davey like he was broken, and Davey stopped resisting Jack’s care. Davey stayed with Jack and Crutchie until Friday afternoon. After Davey managed to convince Jack that he would be safe and didn’t need to be under constant surveillance, he went back to his dorm, and Jack tried his best to get on with his day without being a complete nervous wreck. Thank god, Crutchie got out of class early on Fridays, so he didn’t have to spend long alone. Jack was laying flat on his face on the couch when he heard the door open.

“Jack...?”

He groaned loudly in answer, and Crutchie came to sit on the edge of the couch, putting a hand on Jack’s back.

“Crutchie, tell me I’m stupid.” Jack’s voice was rather muffled by the couch.

“You’re stupid.”

“Thank you.”

Crutchie chuckled. “Jack, come on. Davey’s doing a lot better, and Spot promised he’d check on him.”

“I know; that’s why I’m stupid.” Jack finally turned his head to the side. “I know he’s okay now. Things are getting better, and I know he’s safe, but I’m still driving myself crazy.”

Crutchie gently petted his hair. “Hey, do I get to say ‘I told you so,’ now?”

This pulled a small grin onto Jack’s face, and he rolled a little bit so he could look up at Crutchie. “He loves me.”

“Of fucking course he does, you imbecile.” Crutchie smacked the back of his head. “He even told you so, like, weeks ago, you were just asleep.”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Crutchie went on casually, like this was totally inconsequential and not important at all. “You were asleep, and I think he thought I was asleep, and he told you he loved you before he left. I tried to convince you.”

“ _ What!? _ ”

Crutchie laughed. “And you said  _ I _ was clueless.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but before he had a chance to retort, his phone buzzed.

Hoping for a text from Davey, his brow furrowed in mild surprise when he was greeted with an email notification, rather than a text banner. He swiped it open, frowning, and as he read, his eyes widened in horror.

No, no way in hell. Enough shit had gone wrong over the past week, he didn’t need more, especially not this.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Crutchie asked, concerned.

Jack sat up, planting his feet on the floor and staring at the screen in disbelief. “I just got fired.”

Crutchie gaped. “What?”

Jack was calm—that awful sort of calm when you know you’re entirely and irretrievably fucked. “Apparently my boss at the diner wasn’t a fan of me missing a week of work.”

Crutchie sighed. “Shit.”

“Fuck...” Jack exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair and staring wide eyed at the floor. “What am I gonna do?”

“Well, you still have a job at the auto shop,” Crutchie reasoned, “and...and I could get a job, too.”

Jack was shaking his head before Crutchie even finished speaking. “No way, you need to focus on school so you can be a big fancy doctor and rescue my impoverished ass when I burn out.”

Crutchie sighed again and shifted closer to Jack. “We’re already behind on rent.”

Jack shook his head again, with more finality. “I’ll find other work, we’ll be fine.”

He was trying his best to keep a brave face on, but Jack was worried. Scared. Crutchie was right, they were already struggling, and Jack had earned more at the diner than the auto shop. As always, he wanted to talk to Davey, but that sounded like the worst idea. Davey was still fragile.

Jack sighed heavily. “Ah well, I wanted to look for more work, anyway. Maybe I can find something with actual reliable hours.” He chuckled humorlessly. “A real, steady schedule, can you imagine?” He knew he couldn’t fool Crutchie with his false positivity, but maybe he could fool himself.

Crutchie nodded. “That would be good for you, I think.”

Jack nodded. “‘Specially since I’m graduating next month. I need something steady.”

“Right.” Crutchie grinned. “I can’t believe you’re actually graduating.”

“Not if I fail 2D Fundamentals, I’m not.” He smiled wryly.

“You’re not gonna fail 2D Fundamentals, idiot.” Crutchie stood up and made for the kitchen. “Now, what do you want for dinner? I may need to go to the store.”

“Ah! See you called me an idiot! I could totally fail!” Jack wildly grasped at this somehow lighter concept, trying to avoid slipping into a state of contemplative economical despair.

“You’re gonna be a hungry idiot if you don’t tell me what you want for dinner,” Crutchie called back.

“Pizza!”

“Do you want the Hawaiian or the or cheese?”

“Eh, lets get rid of the Hawaiian, it’s been in there forever.”

Crutchie threw the frozen Hawaiian pizza at Jack like a frisbee. He dove off the couch, attempting to catch it, and failing miserably. They crashed to the ground in tandem, the pizza a good five feet away from Jack.

Crutchie snickered. “Cheese, then?”

“Yeah,” Jack replied from the floor. “We can start an ultimate frisbee league with the other one.”

“Sounds good.”

* * *

Davey didn’t go straight back to his dorm from Jack’s apartment. He knew he needed to—he couldn’t hide in Jack’s apartment forever, after all—but he didn’t feel very ready to face his roommates again. Instead, He wandered around campus for a while in a haze. It was strange, watching everyone else go about their days as if nothing had happened. It was strange that someone could not know what had happened, when it was all Davey could think about.

It would get better. He believed that, less because he actually thought it was true and more because he had to. Otherwise, he would end up hurting the people he loved, and he refused to do that any more than he already had.

The sun was setting when he ended up in front of his building and decided to go inside. On autopilot, he reached his floor and started down the hallway, but panic rose with every step closer to his room. Spontaneously, he went to Spot’s door instead and knocked.

A muffled, “Coming,” through the door, and a few moments later it was pulled open. “Oh shit. Hey, Dave,” Spot said, mildly surprised.

“Hey...” Davey had not thought about what he intended to say or do, when Spot opened the door.

“You, uh, wanna come in?” Spot stepped back, opening the door a bit wider.

Davey realized that he did. He nodded and stepped through the threshold, and Spot closed the door behind him.

“D’you want a drink or something? I got a coffee maker in here.”

“No, thank you.” Davey suddenly felt like, if he tried to eat or drink anything, he would throw up.

“A’right.” Spot moved over to sit on his bed, gesturing to his desk chair in silent offering. “What’s up?”

Davey considered the offer of the desk chair, then did not accept it. “I was just coming back, and I—...”

And he what? Couldn’t be away from his boyfriend for one day without freaking out?

He shrugged helplessly.

Spot nodded solemnly. “Not ready to see the jackasses yet?”

“I think...” Davey started to run his fingers through his hair, then abruptly stopped and dropped his hands to his sides. He didn’t like that. “I’m not ready for the questions.”

Another nod. “Makes sense.”

Davey took a deep breath. It didn’t make sense. None of it did. “Race told me to be careful,” he said. He didn’t know why that was what came to mind.

Spot nodded. “Yeah, he may be dumb as a box of rocks, but he’s a smart kid.” He paused a moment before continuing. “Thank you for calling Albert to get him home safe.”

“Of course,” Davey replied automatically. “I couldn’t just abandon him in that condition.”

Spot smiled tightly and sighed. “How are you doing with all this?”

Davey snorted. “I feel like shit, and I want to die. How am I supposed to be doing?”

Spot cringed sympathetically. “Yeah that was a dumb question, sorry.”

“No, no, you’re doing everything right. I just...” Davey sighed. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Spot remained silent for a moment, just looking at him. Eventually, he sighed as well. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Dave. It shouldn’t have.”

Davey let out a breathy laugh. “You sound like Jack.”

“Well, then Jack’s right,” Spot chuckled. He sat forward, resting his arms on his knees, and looking solidly at Davey. “I ain’t Jack, though. He’s a good guy, he means well, just wants to help you, but you know all that. My point is, he’s a bit too close, yknow? He don’t have proper perspective.”

Something inside Davey ignited, and he jumped to Jack’s defense. “Oh, and I suppose you do?”

Spot held his hands up placatingly. “I don’t mean that like it’s a bad thing. I meant he cares about you a hell of a lot more than he cares about anything else, an’ that heavy sorta investment can affect the way a person acts or talks.”

Davey took a deep breath to cool himself down. “What do you mean?”

Spot offered a somewhat strained smile. “Y’want me to be blunt?”

“I suppose.”

“He’s gonna coddle you, Dave. He ain’t gonna push anything.” Spot held his hands up again. “Don’t get me wrong, some areas that’s a good thing. But others...” He shrugged.

Davey nodded. He understood what Spot meant. Jack had been tip-toeing around him, and it kept him more comfortable, but in the end, it was just like taking a Band-Aid off slowly.

“You should talk about it. It won’t feel great, but it’s better to scrape all that shit out into the light rather than lettin’ it stew inside.”

Davey but his lip hard. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I don’t mean gimme a play-by-play. You don’t gotta do that. I meant the feelings an’ shit.”

“Feelings,” Davey echoed.

He had a lot of those.

“I was really scared,” he said, “but mostly just numb. I don’t remember too much.”

Spot nodded, maintaining eye contact, but remained silent.

Davey clasped his hands in front of him to keep them from shaking. “I passed out at some point, and when I woke up...” He shook his head, trying to somehow tell without remembering. “When I woke up, everything hurt, and I was sick, and I thought I was dying. I mean, I really did.” He paused briefly as his hands started shaking anyway. “Spot, I don’t want to do this.”

Spot straightened up on his bed, nodding. “A’right, it’s cool, don’t worry about it. I ain’t a therapist or anything, so I’m not qualified to make ya keep talkin’. You can, though, if you want, and I really think you should. It don’t have to be now. I’m always here.”

Davey nodded quickly as tears began to sting his eyes. He knew Spot was right; he needed to talk about it. He needed to make sense of it in words, the way he made sense of everything else.

“If you want, you can just talk  _ at _ me—have somethin’ to bounce the words off of.”

Davey finally took Spot’s offer of sitting in the desk chair and folded his knees up to his chest. He thought about what Spot was suggesting. Jack hadn’t been able to listen, the way Spot could. Spot was right—Jack was too close. Spot, on the other hand, was a brick wall. The question was, would it help? Davey didn’t want to talk about it, by any means. He wanted to forget about it and make it go away, but that could never happen.

He tried one more time. “I still feel like I’m being touched, all the time,” he admitted.

Spot nodded, bracing his arms behind him on the bed, and crossing one leg loosely over the other, right ankle resting on the opposite knee. He was silent, but maintained an open, attentive stance. Davey knew exactly what he was doing. It was another psychological trick Sarah had mentioned once. If you want someone to talk more, stay silent. Silence makes people uncomfortable, and they will fill it. Unfortunately, it was also working.

“I just can’t seem to get away from it, you know?” Davey rambled on. “It’s like they’re always there. Are they always going to be there?”

“I don’t have experience with this specific situation, so I don’t really know the full extent of it,” Spot shrugged a bit, “but I know trauma don’t go away...”

Davey hugged his knees tighter and swallowed hard to stave off tears. “I’m never going to be the same, am I? They took something from me that I can’t get back.”

Spot sighed heavily, leaning forward again. “Y’ probably right; you’re not gonna be the same. I think you’re gonna be okay though. You’re tougher than people give you credit for.”

“I don’t know about that...”

“I ain’t Jack, remember? I ain’t just sayin’ stuff that I think’ll make you feel better.”

“Doesn’t mean either of you are right.” Davey gestured to himself. “I’m falling apart here. I think I almost ended up in the East River the other day...and if you tell Jack I said that, Spot, I swear I will—”

Spot held his hands up. “Safe space, remember? I ain’t sayin’ anything to Jack. Part of bein’ the RA—confidentiality or whatever.”

“Unless you think I’m in danger,” Davey said skeptically. “I know the rules.”

“Yeah, but then I tell other folks, not Jack.”

“Are you going to tell other folks?”

“Are you gonna try anything stupid?”

“I’m not planning on it.”

Spot nodded. “You’ll let me know if that changes?”

Davey nodded back.

“Alright, I’ll hold off on alerting the troops.”

Davey chuckled weakly. “Thank you. I should really go back to my room, now.”

“We can hang, if you want—play some game,” he gestured towards a box full of game cases sitting next to the TV, “or you can talk at me more, if you‘d rather.”

Davey hesitated for only a moment. He  _ really _ didn’t want to go back to his roommates.

“Yeah, okay. What games do you have?”

* * *

Spot and Davey spent the next couple of hours playing snips and bits out of Spot’s rather impressive hoard of video games, and working their way through the remaining bag of potato chips that Spot had managed to hide from Race.

“I don’t know how that boy is so skinny,” Spot chuckled fondly. “He eats like a fuckin’...I don’ even know man.”

Davey smiled, not taking his eyes off their game on the screen. “You care about him a lot, don’t you?”

A less astute man wouldn’t have noticed the slight tinge of pink that spread across Spot’s checks as he shrugged. “Yeah, I guess, sorta.”

Davey smiled almost apologetically, then the window caught his eye. “It’s getting late...” he said, nervousness seeping into his voice though he tried to avoid it.

Spot glanced out the window, and then looked back at Davey. He opened his mouth to say something, but then stopped, and frowned, the way one does when suddenly struck by an unexpected idea.

Davey shifted in his seat, frowning as well. “What?”

Spot opened his mouth again, taking a breath, and once more frowned and closed it. “No...yeah, yeah. Okay, so I got an idea.”

Davey raised an eyebrow and nodded once for him to continue.

He gestured towards the empty bed that was lofted against the far wall, with a desk under it that Spot was using as his kitchen area. “I don’t have a roommate.”

Davey blinked. “I gathered that.”

“Well, you don’t want to go back to bunking with those bastards, right?”

“Are you...” Davey narrowed his eyes. “...asking me to move in?”

“I mean, yeah.” Spot shrugged. “Seems like the most reasonable solution to me.”

Davey blinked some more. “Can I do that?”

“I mean, we gotta sign a paper, and get those two to sign, but yeah.”

Davey let out a breath that was half a chuckle. “Are you sure?”

Spot rolled his eyes. “Dave, c’mon, course I’m sure.”

Davey knew he shouldn’t. It was too late in the semester to turn everything on its head for Spot, who had already done more than enough for him anyway. Still... “Oh my god, please?”

Spot got up and crossed to the door. “No problem, man. It’s the least I could do.”

_ No _ , Davey thought,  _ far from it _ , but he decided not to say anything. Minutes passed, and he was beginning to think that maybe something had gone wrong. Maybe the RHD didn’t want to approve a switch right before the end of the year. Just as he was beginning to slip into a spiral of anxious worry, the door buzzed and opened, and Spot came back into the room, holding a piece of paper.

“Got it.”

Davey accepted the paper when Spot offered it. “All I have to do is sign this?”

“Well I gotta file it, but yeah.”

When Davey looked down at the paper, he saw there were already four other signatures; Spot’s, the RHD’s, and both of the Delanceys’. Spot had done everything. All Davey had to do was sign it, and he would be free from the Delanceys and all the bullshit that came with them.

He couldn’t sign the damn thing fast enough.

* * *

“D’you think I’d be a good administrative assistant?” Jack called to Crutchie in the living room from his spot at the kitchen table. He had about twelve tabs open on his laptop, sifting through potential jobs to apply for.

“Honestly, Jack, I don’t really know what an administrative assistant does.”

“Yeah, me neither,” he grumbled, hitting the blue ‘apply now’ button anyway. He didn’t exactly feel like going straight back into food service, but decent jobs for which he was qualified, that didn’t conflict with school or his job at the auto shop, were few and far between. “‘Part-time nanny’?”

“You...honestly wouldn’t be too bad at that.”

Before Jack could respond, his phone buzzed loudly on the table.

“It’s good money, but it’s only two days a week. I’d have to find something else, too,” he said, more thinking out loud than anything, and flipped his phone over to see the screen. He found a text from Davey. “ _ I’m living with Spot, now. _ ”

Jack blinked a couple times, staring at his phone. It was a very straightforward concept, worded clearly, but for some reason it took a second to connect properly in Jack’s brain. “Oh shit,” he said aloud in that mild way one does, before tapping out his reply: “ _ Oh shit _ ” He sent another, “ _ that’s great! _ ”

“What’s shit?” Crutchie asked, making his way over to the table.

Jack let out a little huff of laughter. “Spot rescued Dave. He’s gonna stay with him ‘stead of the wonder twins.”

“Shit!” Crutchie exclaimed brightly.

A very small grin appeared on Jack’s face. “It’s nice getting good news, for once.”

Another text from Davey came in, then. “ _ I didn’t realize how uncomfortable I was, living with them, until now that I don’t have to. _ “

Jack replied quickly. “ _ Yeah, makes sense. I’m glad you won’t be around those creeps anymore _ .“

Davey replied, “ _ Me, too _ .” Then, he immediately messaged again. “ _ I just wanted to let you know. I am going to bed now _ .”

Jack smiled softly at his phone. It was good to have Davey talking like Davey again. If he shut down every other part of his brain, it was almost like everything was normal again. He tapped back. “ _ Thanks for telling me. Spot’s a good dude, tell him I appreciate it?” _

“ _ I will _ .” A moment later, “ _ Goodnight, Jacky. I love you _ .”

Jack’s heart skipped, and for the first time in ages, it wasn’t accompanied by a sense of horror or dread. “‘ _ Night, Davey. _ ” He replied. “ _ I love you. _ ”

Jack had felt it for weeks now, and being able to actually say it, to actually tell Davey he loved him, was such a relief.

“Jack,” Crutchie said loudly, as though he’d been trying to get his attention for a minute and couldn’t.

Startling a little, Jack looked up at him. “Wh—yeah?”

“You look kinda like a cow about to get hit by a train.”

Jack snickered, rolling his eyes. “Shut up, I’m in love.”

“You’re  _ hopeless _ , is what you are.”

“Ehhh, what’s the difference?”

“For you?” Crutchie smirked. “There isn’t one.” He headed back to the living room and resumed his place on the couch.

“Exactly my point.”

Jack placed his phone down on the table again, and looked back to his laptop, considering for a moment, before hitting the ‘apply now’ button for the part-time nanny job.


	35. Jack Is a Dramatic Dumbass, and Davey Is Confused. What Else Is New?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack takes Davey on a date.

The first thing Davey noticed when he woke up on Saturday was that he was not in his room. His stomach dropped through the floor, and he sat bolt upright, kicked into gear by a shot of adrenaline like a lightning bolt. His memory kicked in a moment later, and he remembered that he  _ was _ in his room—the one he now shared with Spot. He collapsed back onto his pillow and breathed a sigh of relief.

Spot pushed himself up onto his elbow, looking blearily in Davey’s direction. “Whaddayadoing?”

“I forgot that I moved,” Davey told him, “panicked for a moment.”

Spot grunted in affirmation and checked his phone before laying back down, groaning at the still early hour.

Davey curled up on his side and closed his eyes, hoping to fall back asleep, but found himself too wound up. With another sigh, this one heavy with exasperation Davey slid out of bed and set about organizing his desk. He and Spot has gotten all his things moved, but they’d fallen asleep before they could do anything about the mess.

As the morning progressed to a more reasonable hour, Davey continued organizing. They hadn’t had anything to really pack his things in, and it was only down the hallway, so they had simply carried everything over as it was. Turned out, Spot wasn’t much of a morning person. Midday approached, and he still hadn’t moved, except to shove his head under the pillow once the sun began to push into the room.

At around eleven-thirty, Davey’s phone buzzed. It took him a moment to find it, somewhat lost in the pile of things on his desk, as he was still finding places to put everything. Once he unburied his phone, he was greeted by Jack’s name, and with a small smile he flicked the message open.

“ _ So how’s morning with Spot Conlon? _ ”

“ _ Peaceful, once I remembered where I was. How are you?” _

Davey loved Jack. He didn’t know why that came to the forefront of his mind in that moment, but it did.

The reply came in quickly, as it usually did. “ _ Been better, but I’m not bad. _ ” Another message. “ _ What are you up to today? _ ”

Davey looked around the room. “ _ Just settling in, I guess _ .”

“ _ Gotcha. y’think that’s gonna take all day? _ ”

“ _ I hope not. Why? _ ”

It took a minute before the next message arrived. “ _ Well, I was hoping I could take you to dinner. _ ”

Davey blinked at the message, feeling a small smile and a not-so-small blush creep across his face. “ _ You don’t have to do that. _ ”

He could practically hear Jack smirking in the next text. “ _ That isn’t really an answer, Dave _ .”

“ _ You didn’t ask a question _ .“

“ _ Can I take you to dinner? _ ”

Davey’s heart skipped, and he grinned.  _ Damn, I love him so much _ .

“ _ I don’t know; can you?” _

* * *

At five o’clock, Davey started getting ready for dinner. They had agreed Jack would come get him at six, and even though it wouldn’t take Davey an hour to shower and get dressed, he wanted to make sure he had plenty of time, in case something went wrong.

And something did indeed go wrong. He couldn’t find his light blue shirt. It must have been buried somewhere in the pile of not-yet-hung-up-or-folded laundry that was currently dominating his bed. And even though he dug through it twice, Davey still couldn’t find his shirt. Eventually, he settled for his white and gray tattersall button up, which meant he couldn’t wear khakis, and that was a whole other ordeal.

At five-forty-eight, Davey got a text. “ _ I’m on my way _ .”

Oh god, okay, jeans it would have to be. Why was dating so hard? Furthermore, why was he so worried when Jack had literally seen him at his worst?

At six-o-five, another text pinged in, heralding Jack’s arrival downstairs.

“Shit, okay...” Davey hissed, making a run for it. He almost tripped on the stairs.

Jack was waiting on the bench just outside. When the door opened, he looked up, and a dazzling smile spread quickly across his face when he saw it was Davey. “Hey babe,” he said, standing up and pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

It occurred to Davey, in that moment, that he had never seen Jack in anything other than T-shirts or hoodies, so it was slightly jarring to see him in a suspiciously familiar, light blue, button-up shirt. It was a warm day, for April, and Jack had rolled his sleeves up to devastating effect. Why was a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up literally the most attractive thing any man could wear, ever?

Davey stared at him like an idiot as his mind went completely blank except for ‘wow forearms.’ He finally managed a stupid, “H—hi, Jacky.”

That awful, beautiful, mischievous spark lit up behind Jack’s eyes. “Alright there, Davey?”

_ Damn it. _ “You look nice.”

Jack looked down at his shirt. “Oh yeah? Y’know, I have no idea where this came from, it was just hanging off the dresser. I think maybe it’s Crutchie’s?”

“I think it’s mine, actually.” Davey smiled. “You should wear my clothes more often.”

Jack twisted his mouth downwards and raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Huh,” he looked up at Davey again, smiling crookedly now. “Then what would you wear?”

“Also my clothes.”

“Don’t get me wrong Dave, I love the idea, but I don’t think we’d both fit.”

Davey laughed. What a dork. “So where are we going?”

“There’s a great little deli not too far off, if you don’t mind walking?” Jack said, very amused.

“You mean Jacobi’s?” Davey raised an eyebrow.

Jack grinned. “Oh, you’ve heard of it?”

Davey started walking. “Yeah, this really cute guy bought me lunch there, once.”

“Uh oh, do I have to be jealous?” Jack fell into step beside him, close enough that, if things were normal, it would’ve been easy to just reach out and take his hand.

“Never,” Davey assured him.

Davey had been in such a bad place, he hadn’t taken the time to properly appreciate Jack in a while. Jack was beautiful and kind and thoughtful. Davey couldn’t imagine a more perfectly imperfect human being, and he still couldn’t believe Jack was his.

Jack was still smiling, but he had narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Davey. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Because I love you,” Davey said. It just slipped out, as natural as the sun setting in the west or the leaves changing color in the fall.

“I love you, too,” Jack chuckled. He dropped his head for a moment, and shook it briefly before he looked up again. “Feels damn good to say it, honestly.”

Davey smiled softly. “It does.”

* * *

It only took about fifteen minutes to walk to Jacobi’s from Davey’s dorm, but on the way, Jack had to remind himself at least twenty times that he couldn’t hold Davey’s hand. Once they got to the deli, Jack and Davey stepped into the line at the counter, and Jack almost reached out to put his arm around Davey, but instead shoved his hands resolutely into his pockets. To say he was glad to see Davey’s mental state improving would be a massive understatement. He was fucking thrilled. More and more, Davey looked and sounded like himself, like the Davey Jack had fallen so desperately in love with. That only made it harder to remember that touching was off-limits.

“Anything look good?” Jack asked him, looking up at the chalkboard menu on the wall behind the counter.

Davey shrugged. “Maybe I’ll finally ask if the minestrone is k—” Davey’s eyes widened to approximately the size of car tires. “Ohmygod, it’s Passover.”

Jack knit his eyebrows. “It’s what now?”

“Passover,” Davey repeated. Then, quieter and a little panicked, “How the fuck did I forget about Passover?”

“Hey whoa.” Jack began to reach to put his hand on his shoulder, but quickly stopped. “It’s a holiday, right? Or am I dumb?”

“It’s a holiday,” Davey said, pulling out his phone and scrolling through messages from his parents and siblings. “Shit, I just responded without even reading these. What kind of Jew just forgets Passover?”

Jack cringed sympathetically. “I mean...you’ve had a lot going on...”

“Still,” Davey mumbled, “it’s important.”

Jack nodded, not really knowing how to properly answer. They reached the counter, and after grilling the poor cashier about ingredients, Davey ordered tomato soup. Jack ordered half a sandwich and a cup of chicken tortilla soup.

“I got us both,” he told the lady behind the counter as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

Davey shook his head. “You paid for us, last time we were here.”

Jack smiled that awful, inarguable smile of his. “What’s your point?” He extended a handful of cash over the counter towards the clerk.

Davey rolled his eyes. “I’m paying, next time.”

“Whatever you say, love.”

The light flush that lit up Davey’s cheeks made Jack’s heart stutter. Fucking beautiful. As always, Jack got stuck staring at him, wondering how such an amazing person could care to be his, and knowing he would do anything to keep him.

“Um, sir?”

Jerking out of his reverie, Jack looked back at the woman behind the counter. “Yeah, hi, yes, sorry.”

She handed him his change, obviously biting back giggles. “Enjoy your meal.”

Jack cast her a brief, glittering smile. “Thanks, Stacy.”

He headed for a nearby booth with Davey in tow, and the two sat across from each other. Glancing around Jacobi’s, Jack was rushed by memories of their first date. It hadn’t even been a date, really, he’d just invited Davey to lunch, and for god knows what reason he had said yes. Frowning slightly, amused, Jack looked at Davey.

“Why did you come to lunch with me, that first time? I mean, I was just some jackass who got your number cause someone dared me to.”

Davey chuckled nervously. “Polite or honest?”

“Always honest.”

“You’re really hot, and I’m really gay.”

Jack burst into laughter.

Davey smiled. “I’m really glad I did, though.”

“God, imagine if you hadn’t?” Jack chuckled. He had never loved anyone the way he loved Davey, and at this point he was much too far gone to ever recover. For...ever, the only thing Jack had any certainty in was Crutchie, but now, he had a hard time imagining a future that didn’t revolve around Davey Jacobs.

“I’d rather not,” Davey chuckled. “I’m pretty attached to you.”

“Well of course, I’m irresistible, remember?” Jack teased. It felt so good to be talking with Davey like normal, teasing and cracking jokes. Things were almost normal, if he could just  _ touch _ him…

Davey rolled his eyes. “A complete egomaniac.”

Jack blew him a kiss, beaming.

With another light chuckle, Davey relaxed into his seat, looking around the restaurant. “You’re my egomaniac, though,” he said casually, as if he couldn’t completely annihilate all of Jack’s walls and defenses with words like that.

And he  _ was _ his, wasn’t he? Jack had never wanted to belong to anyone—in fact he specifically avoided such a thing. The thought of being obligated to someone else, tied to someone else, wasn’t a thought Jack ‘Ready To Run’ Kelly was too fond of. Of course, he had Crutchie, he would always have Crutchie, but that wasn’t  _ belonging _ to someone. He and Crutchie just  _ were _ . But there in Jacobi’s deli, looking at Davey Jacobs, the boy he loved, Jack’s mind stumbled to a stop as he realized how completely and entirely he  _ was _ his.

Davey narrowed his eyes at him. “Everything okay, Jack?”

Jack frowned a tiny bit, rather surprised that it  _ was _ okay. “Yeah, actually.”

“What does that mean?”

Jack hesitated, trying to think how he could explain this to Davey without sounding like an unreliable jackass. “This is all really new for me. Sorta...caught me off guard.”

Davey blinked. “Going on a date to Jacobi’s with your boyfriend?”

“Wh—” Jack laughed. “No, no, we’ve definitely done this before. I more meant  _ you _ , Davey.” Jack pushed his fingers through his hair and quickly continued. “I’m being all weird and cryptic, I’m sorry, I’m a dramatic mess. Let me try again, without being a total freak.” He cleared his throat, meeting Davey’s eyes before he continued. “I’ve never been a reliable guy. I’m flighty, I’m impulsive, I don’t trust people, and I don’t like feeling trapped. That’s part of why me and Kath didn’t work out, she was real...” He spread his fingers out, bending them in a mimicry of claws before he closed his hand. “...possessive, and I don’t like that. Crutchie’s the only thing that’s ever been constant in my life. He’s the only person I’ve ever properly trusted.” Jack paused, pressing his lips together in a tight line, and then smiling a little. “Remember our first date? The one I bought for a pigeon drawing?”

“Of course.”

“Remember how I said you’re different?”

Davey nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“I’m not big on the idea of ‘belonging’ to someone, but when I stop and think about it, I’m shit out of luck, when it comes to you.” His smile grew now as he kept talking. “And the weird part is, I’m okay with that.” He chuckled. “Hell, belonging to you might be the best thing that’s ever gonna happen to me.”

Davey stared at him wide-eyed for so long, he began to think he said something wrong. Then, Davey said, “Holy shit, babe, that’s so fucking sweet.”

Jack laughed, relieved. “Just bein’ honest.”

“God,” Davey laughed along, “I’d hate to hear you be polite. I don’t think I could take it.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I’d even know how.”

A waiter arrived with their food, and after a moment of small talk about how good it is, Davey’s face suddenly shifted into a mask of something just shy of concern. “You’re graduating next month, right?”

Jack looked up from his sandwich, a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone and topic. “Uh, yeah, that’s the plan.”

“Then what?”

Oh no...

“Well, I want to sell my stuff, do commissions or whatever. But I know that ain’t a right away thing...”

This was starting to stink of the old conversations he used to have with Katherine, but at least Davey hadn’t started scolding right out of the gate.

Davey stirred his soup absentmindedly. “Are you staying in New York?

Jack blinked a few times, surprised. Did Davey really think he was gonna just...leave? Okay, to be fair, he  _ had _ literally just said he was unreliable and flighty, but still. “Well, yeah, of course.”

Davey’s shoulders almost imperceptibly relaxed. “And then it’s just odd jobs until your art gets a following?”

‘Until’. That was certainly different from conversations with Katherine. She had always made it sound so uncertain, so unlikely, but Davey just believed in him. Easy as that.

“I guess, yeah. That’s sort of the only option.”

Davey shrugged. “There are always options. That sounds like a pretty good one, though.”

Jack smiled, but his face was starting to feel a little bit like clay. Odd jobs until his art got a following— _ if _ his art got a following. Davey may already believe that he would be a success, but Jack wasn’t so sure. Furthermore, he might not even get to find out, if he didn’t start picking up some of those ‘odd jobs’ soon. He’d applied to over thirty new jobs already—god bless online application sites—and no one had gotten back to him. It had only been a day though, and these things take time. He’d just have to keep waiting, and keep trying.

* * *

Davey remembered telling Jack, in a hospital room in the middle of the night, “Never have I ever had a single clue what I want out of life.” That was true, at the time. He had things he wanted to do, sure, but he didn’t have a  _ purpose _ . He didn’t have a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

That wasn’t true, anymore, and the realization was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Davey wanted to be with Jack Kelly, to take care of him, support him, and make him smile every day, to make sure he always had enough. Davey had never been in love before, and now that he was, he didn’t want to exist any other way.

Jack walked Davey back to his dorm, talking all the while about jobs Jack could possibly do while waiting for his art to kick off. It had started as a relatively serious topic, but quickly spiraled into silliness. As they turned a corner, Jack was explaining why becoming a career rock climber was a fantastic idea for a budding artist.

“What happens if you fall and break your hands?” Davey asked.

“Artists have to suffer, right? I’ll just mope about being all tragic for a few months, and then I’ll have so much to fuel my painting. It’s a flawless plan,” Jack assured him, the very picture of sincerity.

Davey pursed his lips to the side, thinking. “I don’t know. Seems like a lot of work when you could just cut your own ear off and call it a day.”

Jack laughed. “I think that counts as plagiarism.”

“Not if you cut off your right ear.”

He snorted. “But that’s my good ear!”

“Oh.” Davey came to an abrupt halt in front of his dorm, realizing he had almost walked past it. Jack very nearly ran into him, tripping a little on his own feet. Davey jumped out of his way just in time. “Sorry.”

“Shit, sorry,” said Jack, at the same time. “Guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Me either.” Davey turned to Jack and was struck for at least the tenth time that night by the fact that Jack was still really hot, and he was still really gay.

Jack was also still really fidgety. He had been all night. He kept moving his hands around, mostly taking them out of his pockets, and then putting them right back in again. He moved like he was caught in the tide, continually drifting closer to Davey, and then pulling away, only to drift back a moment later. Davey noticed, but didn’t know how to ask, so he pretended he didn’t.

“Do you want to do something together, tomorrow?” he asked instead.

Jack’s face lit up like he’d just been hit by a ray of sunlight. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Davey beamed right back. “Great. I’ll text you.”

For the briefest fraction of a second, Jack’s smile faltered, but it was instantly back. “You better.”

“I promise.”

* * *

After what felt—to Jack, at least—like a very stiff and unnatural goodbye, Jack made his way back across campus, heading home. Once he got to the apartment and closed the door behind him, he immediately slumped back against it and slid down to sit on the floor, staring blindly into the middle distance.

“Uh...” Crutchie spoke up from the living room. “How did it go?”

“It went really good,” Jack replied thickly, and he could feel tears pricking behind his eyes.

Crutchie hesitated. “That’s good.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, it was really nice. Things felt almost—” he choked on a suppressed sob, “almost normal.” And with that, tears began to slide down his face.

Crutchie, as always, was at his side in seconds. He sat down beside him and started rubbing his back.

Jack dropped his head back against the door and shut his eyes, hoping the tears would just stop. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, forever determined to be the unbreakable carer and protector, but this was Crutchie. “I’m just so tired, Crutchie. After everything with Dave, and getting fired, and no one has gotten back to me about any applications, and trying to catch up so I can still graduate. I’m just  _ tired _ .”

“Of course you are,” Crutchie said. “Anyone would be.”

“No, but I can deal with that, that’s fine, I’m always tired. It’s more a personality trait than anything at this point.” Jack sighed. “Davey’s getting so much better, and I’m so glad, but...” He cringed. “I still can’t touch him, and I feel like such an ass, cause of  _ course _ he doesn’t want to be touched. I got no right to be upset about this.”

Crutchie sighed as well. “No, you’re right, you don’t, but you can’t help it if you are.”

Jack flopped against the door unhappily. “I miss him. I miss holding hands, and him messing with my hair, and all that dumb fluffy shit.”

“It won’t be forever, Jack.”

He chuckled. “Even if it is, I think I’m stuck.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty far gone, aren’t you?” Crutchie ruffled his hair.

“You’re gonna laugh at me, but something about Davey is  _ different _ , I swear to god. I don’t even know how to explain it, he’s just,” Jack grasped at nothing in the air, as if that somehow would help get his point across, “ _ better _ , and I tell him all the time how incredible he is, but he just won’t believe me—always tries to divert and talk about me or something entirely unrelated,” Jack huffed.

“You do that, too.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah that’s cause I don’t deserve it.  _ Davey _ though—“

Crutchie smacked him on the back of the head, and Jack whined, twisting his upper body away from Crutchie without bothering to get up or properly move.

“You’re wonderful, and Dave’s wonderful, and you deserve each other,” Crutchie proclaimed, slowly getting back to his feet.

Jack stood as well, still completely exhausted, but he felt a  _ littl _ _e_ better. Crutchie always made things better. Crutchie was usually  _ right _ , too. This—not touching Davey—wouldn’t be forever, and Jack would wait as long as he had to.


	36. Jack Brings Shame on His Family in Space Invaders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mom and Dad" are fighting and Davey's caught in the middle.

Davey Jacobs was many things: Smart, stubborn, Jewish, gay, a bookworm, in love with Jack Kelly, and an absolute beast at Space Invaders. As such, he had no problem carrying the entire game on his shoulders while lying upside-down on Jack’s couch and eating veggie straws.

“Jacky, for God’s sake, you had a clear shot at that mothership.”

Jack gestured at the screen in frustration. “This game is old as shit, the controls are weird.”

“That’s interesting, since I’m doing just fine.”

Jack huffed as his ship was once again shot down.

“Hmm.” Davey smiled. “Maybe you need to look at it upside down.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously before slowly rolling over on the couch and hanging his head off the cushions to look at the tv upside down. He was less than an arm’s reach away, but the space between them might as well have been miles.

Davey knew as well as the next guy that Jack Kelly was an excessively tactile person. He knew the lack of contact was killing him. Davey was a lot of things; an idiot was not one of them.

“Babe, this made it worse,” Jack said flatly as his ship ran directly into the side of the screen before once again being blown up.

Davey shrugged. “Guess you just suck, then.”

Smirking, Jack opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it closed again before any sound could come out. He cleared his throat shortly. “No, I think you’re sabotaging me.”

“We’re on the same team.”

“Uh-huh, that’s what they all say.”

Jack’s ship blew up again.

“Babe,” Davey deadpanned.

“What!? It’s not my fault!” Jack gesticulated wildly as he spoke, which was even more amusing than usual, considering him being upside down. “I’m distracted!”

At that, the door opened, and Crutchie stepped inside. He stopped short in the entry when he saw not only Jack, but Davey sitting upside-down on his couch. “Okay,” he said, then continued into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

Jack laughed. “Hey, kid. Where’d you go?”

“I got a job.”

Jack sat up so fast he nearly fell off the couch. “What!?”

Crutchie somehow managed to make taking a drink of water look suspicious and defiant. Davey sat up, glancing between him and Jack.

Jack got up quickly, and moved into the kitchen, dropping his voice as he spoke to Crutchie. “Crutchie, you didn’t have to do that, I’ve got it handled.”

“We’re behind on rent, Jack,” Crutchie shot back.

“That isn’t new! We’ve been behind before. It always turns out fine.”

“And it’s gonna turn out fine this time, because I’ve got a job now.”

Davey shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He couldn’t help but overhear, but this sounded like something that should have been between Jack and Crutchie.

“Crutchie, I’ve  _ got _ this,” Jack insisted. “You need to focus on school. It’s only been two days, and it’s the weekend. I’m sure I’ll hear something on Monday.”

“We  _ both _ need to focus on school. It makes no sense for you to have two jobs and me to have none—”

“You’re in medical school! I’m just an art student, you got so much more to worry about than me.”

“No, I’m in the pre-med track at an undergraduate university, and I’m perfectly capable—”

“I didn’t say you ain’t capable! You still got more to work for than me, and you should focus so—“

“It’s  _ my _ decision! I’m twenty-one; I can make decisions for myself!”

Davey watched with a strange sense of fascination. Jack and Crutchie were family—he never doubted that. He felt like a kid who had gone to a friend’s house, only to see the friend get in trouble and chewed out by their parents—uncomfortable, but unbearably curious.

“Wh—this ain’t even about that! I know you’re not a kid.” Jack sounded more upset than exasperated. “We had a plan. You’re gonna be a big fancy doctor and rescue my impoverished ass when I inevitably burn out.”

“Yeah, and here I am,” Crutchie said, “rescuing your impoverished ass when you inevitably burned out!”

Jack threw up his hands, growing more agitated by the minute. He turned away from Crutchie, gripping the edge of the counter tightly. Instinctively, Davey crossed the room to be closer to him, to protect him, comfort him, something.

After a minute, Jack let go of the counter and turned back to Crutchie, voice tight as he spoke. “Look. I know this ain’t my choice. I know I can’t do shit, once you’ve made your mind up, but you don’t gotta work! I  _ can _ take care of us. I always have.”

“But you don’t have to do it all on your own, anymore!” Crutchie insisted. “I’m not an  _ invalid _ . I don’t need someone taking care of me.”

“Crutchie, if I can’t take care of the people I care about, then what good am I!?” This clearly came out more forcefully than Jack had intended, and he quickly clamped his mouth shut, scowling at the floor.

The silence in that apartment could have drowned a fish. Davey looked at Crutchie, and Crutchie shrugged, shaking his head weakly.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Jack said stiffly, still looking at the floor. He ducked past the other boys and headed out.

“Jack—” Davey began, but he was cut off by the slamming of the door behind Jack.

Crutchie sighed heavily, and leaned against the counter next to him.

“What’s going on?” Davey turned to Crutchie. “What was all that about?”

Crtuchie sighed again. “Jack’s real protective, obviously. Somewhere along the way, he got it in his head that he’s the one who’s gotta do all the providing, and watching out, and whatever. Always had a real white knight complex. He means well, but goddamn is he a stubborn idiot.” Crutchie chuckled in fond exasperation.

Davey frowned. That didn’t really explain anything that had just happened. “He said he’d ‘hear something on Monday’?”

Crutchie cringed. “That ain’t really mine to tell.”

“Should I...” Davey looked at the door, then back at Crutchie. “Should I go after him?”

“He’s probably up on the roof,” Crutchie said in lieu of confirmation.

It was confirmation enough, and Davey nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

It took him a few minutes to find roof access, as there were few signs that pointed in that direction. He basically just kept going up until he finally found the right door.

As Jack and Crutchie lived on the third floor, Davey had never appreciated how tall their building really was. It wasn’t a skyscraper or anything, but cool wind whipped at the roof, despite the milder weather at ground level.

It then took him a moment to locate Jack, as it was starting to get late, and there weren’t really any lights on the roof. He finally spotted him off to the left, sitting right on the edge, staring out at nothing.

“Jack?” Davey called, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the wind.

Jack jolted a little, startled, and looked over his shoulder.

Davey offered him a smile, but he was sure Jack could see right through it.

“What are you doin’ up here?” Jack asked, not unkindly.

“Looking for you,” Davey told him. “What do you think?”

Jack shrugged noncommittally, and got up to move towards Davey. He stopped a good yard and a half away, leaving him with more than plenty of space between them. Davey very deliberately stepped closer. For God’s sake, he didn’t want to be  _ touched _ ; he didn’t need a whole football field between him and the nearest human at all times. Jack just pushed his hands into his pockets, and offered him a weak smile.

“What’s going on?” Davey asked, hoping Jack would give him a more satisfactory answer than Crutchie had.

Jack sighed heavily, and dragged a hand uncomfortably through his hair, leaving it all tufted out like a hedgehog that just woke up. “Promise you won’t be mad at me?”

Oh yes,  _ that _ didn’t make Davey nervous or anything. “I promise.”

Jack pressed his lips together and then let out a slow, rough breath. “I sorta got fired.”

Davey’s jaw dropped. “You what!?”

Jack winced, dropping his gaze and sort of twisting sideways, shying away. “I got fired. From the diner.”

The realization crashed over Davey like a cold ocean wave. “Because you missed work last week.” It wasn’t even a question, but Jack didn’t reply, and that was an answer in and of itself. Davey groaned, “Jack, I’m so sorry.”

Jack shrugged, painfully casual. “Eh, what can ya do? Shit happens.”

“Shit happens...” Davey repeated numbly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t want to add more shit for you to worry about...” Of course, he didn’t. It was just like Crutchie had said; Jack was always the protector, the provider, the white knight. But who protected and provided for Jack? “I don’t know if not telling counts as lying, but either way I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Davey said, and he meant it. After the week they’d had, what they’d been through, Davey couldn’t imagine being the least bit upset with Jack for something so small. Jack had gone above and beyond, and Davey found himself more amazed by him every damn day.

Jack frowned. “You’re not upset?”

“I’m upset that you got fired, sure,” Davey admitted, “but not with you. Of course not.”

Jack looked a little surprised. “Even though I didn’t tell you?”

“I promise, Jack. I’m not upset with you.”

It seemed he didn’t really know how to reply to that, and it was quiet for a minute. Then, “I’ve already applied to a bunch of other places...”

“And I gather you haven’t heard anything back yet.”

His face fell. “Yeah, not yet.”

Something like anger sparked in Davey’s chest. Jack deserved better.

“I’m sure something will turn up.” Jack shrugged.

But that wasn’t the point, was it? That’s not what was bothering him.

“Jack,” Davey tentatively began, “Crutchie and I love you— _ you _ , exactly the way you are, as a person. You’re worth so much more than what you can do for us.”

Jack looked like he wanted to disagree, but they both knew he didn’t have a proper argument.

Davey sighed. “I know I haven’t been a great boyfriend—”

“‘Ey, whoa, hang on,” Jack interrupted immediately, frowning. “That’s not at  _ all _ true.”

“Come on, Jack, there’s no sense in denying—”

“I’m not denyin’ nothing,” he replied firmly. “You’re the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask for.”

Davey took a breath. _ Right, because everyone wants a boyfriend they can’t touch _ . “The point is, I wish I could show you how much I care about you.”

Jack’s eyebrows creased in mild confusion. “What do you mean?”

A very good question. “I just mean...that I wish I could be what you need, right now. Maybe Crutchie can be. It’s okay to lean on people.”

Jack frowned a little. “Davey, you’re always what I need.”

...Well, shit.

Jack chuckled humorlessly. “I’m not gonna lie, I miss you. Touching you, I mean. I miss holding hands, and being your pillow, and you playing with my hair.” He shrugged. “But we already been over this. I’m gonna love you till the day I die, touching or no. That ain’t what’s important.  _ You _ are what’s important.”

For a man who swore he wasn’t good with words, Jack sure knew how to shatter Davey with them, and Davey didn’t ever want to be put back together again. His whole life, love had stood like a great pillar of salt that had to be protected from the rain lest it dissolve, but with Jack—with Jack, it was more like a river, strong and steady, able to cut through stone, and rain only made it overflow its banks for a while.

“You’re important, too.” Davey took another calculated step forward, so they were only a couple feet apart.

Jack smiled and shrugged. “Eh, maybe a little.”

“No.” Davey shook his head. “Not ‘a little’. Crutchie and I  _ love you _ . Let us help you.”

The mutinous look on Jack’s face was definitely still there, but it was a little softer.

“Let us help you,” Davey repeated.

“Dave, I’m supposed to be helping  _ you _ right now.”

“Who says we can’t do both?”

Jack opened his mouth and then closed it again without saying anything, frowning slightly.

“Exactly,” Davey said a bit smugly. “So here’s how it goes—I take care of you, and you take care of me, since neither of us want to take care of ourselves.”

Jack chuckled. “I guess that’s reasonable.”

“Good.” Davey smiled. “Feeling better?”

He nodded. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Good.” Davey smiled. “Want to go bring more shame on your family in Space Invaders, now?”

Jack waved his hand dismissively as if pushing away Davey’s words. “I’m plenty of a shame to my family on my own, but I guess there’s no harm in making it worse, huh?”

“Go big or go home.”


	37. God Can't Save You Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Davey return to their classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Turkey Day to our fellow Americans!

Jack really didn’t want to go to his art class on Monday, but he couldn’t risk losing more attendance points if he was going to graduate on time. Once in the classroom, Jack made his way to his usual seat, about two thirds of the way towards the back of the relatively small room.

Around four minutes before class started, he was surprised to see a classmate, who really looked more like he belonged on the football field than in an art class, coming towards him.

“Uh, hey. Jake, right?”

“Right.” Jake nodded tensely. He took the seat next to Jack, sitting on the edge like he didn’t intend to stay there. “You weren’t in class, last week. I just...wanted to ask if your friend is okay.”

For a fraction of a second Jack blanked. What friend? But then...

“Oh shit, yeah, you called when Davey...” He quickly continued, “Yeah, he’s doing a lot better now. Thank you for calling.”

“Yeah, yeah, o’course.” Jake nodded again. “Thanks for...you know, coming to get him, I guess.”

Jack didn’t really know what to say or how to properly thank him. If Jake hadn’t stumbled across Davey, if he hadn’t called, hadn’t chosen to help...Jack shuddered. God only knows how much longer it would’ve taken to find him—how much worse things could’ve been. If Davey had left the house on his own...

Jake didn’t seem to know what to say either. What was there to say, after all? He just cringed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who did it, if it was one of our guys or—”

Jack shook his head quickly. “Don’t sweat it, there’s no way to know. I’m just glad—...” He trailed off.

Jake frowned. “Glad...?”

Jack sighed, shrugging heavily. “I dunno, that it wasn’t worse?”

“Not sure how it coulda been worse,” Jake grumbled, shifting unhappily in his seat.

“He could be dead,” Jack replied flatly, looking blindly into the middle distance in front of him.

Jake blinked owlishly. “That’s a bit of a leap.”

Jack paused for a moment. There was no reason for him to unload any more of this mess on Jake. “Thanks again for helping.”

“Right,” Jake stood up, “of course, you’re welcome.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I’ll see ya around, Jack.”

Jack nodded in lieu of goodbye, and class started, but he had trouble focusing on what the professor was saying. After a few minutes, he discreetly pulled his phone out, and shot Davey a text.

“ _ Hey _ ”

Davey replied quickly, “ _ Hi, Jacky _ ,” and then, “ _ What’s up? Aren’t you in class? _ ”

“ _ I just wanted to say I love you _ ”

“ _ I love you so much. Pay attention to your class, idiot. _ ”

He chuckled quietly, smiling as he slid his phone back into his pocket. It was such a relief to finally be able to tell Davey he loved him, and even more so to hear it back. Jack was finding it increasingly harder and harder to imagine a life without Davey Jacobs at its center, and for a moment, out of habit and instinct, that scared him. He’d never had a solid idea of his future, beyond Crutchie being there, but now, Davey was there too. Jack wasn’t sure how his life was going to unfold, but he knew, with Davey there, it would be good.

* * *

Davey had to give himself a pep talk before walking into Honors Literature. He shared this class with Elmer, after all, and there were bound to be questions. People didn’t just disappear for a week, and Davey had only answered messages from his family, Jack, and Spot.

He was, of course, completely right. Elmer gasped and bounded over the moment he saw Davey—luckily, the lecture hadn’t started yet, so this wasn’t a huge interruption, just Elmer tripping over some backpacks.

“Holy shit, man, where’ve you been!?”

Davey took a cautious step back. “I was sick,” he said. It was a lie, sure, but it didn’t feel like one.

“Damn, we thought you’d been kidnapped or something,” Elmer laughed, entirely oblivious. “Glad you’re better, though. I’ve been  _ struggling _ without anyone to copy notes off of.”

Davey forced a smile and a laugh, “Well...here I am, to the rescue, I guess.”

Elmer grinned, motioning for Davey to follow him back to his seat. “C’mon, you can look at my shitty notes to see what you missed.”

According to Elmer’s notes, Davey hadn’t missed a lot, but he trusted Elmer’s notes about as far as he could see without contacts, which was not far. Sure enough, he was completely lost during class. He made a mental note to set up a meeting with the professor.

As soon as class was over, Elmer started chattering, catching Davey up on all the freshmen shenanigans he had missed. Apparently, Tommy Boy had gotten a great part in the upcoming dance showcase and wanted everyone to come, Romeo was thinking about trying out some theatre classes in the fall, and Elmer was finally leaning towards a major in political science.

“I figure, the world is going to shit, I might as well try to understand it, and maybe help fix it, yknow?”

“Yeah,” Davey smiled, “that sounds great, Elmer.”

The younger boy nodded, clearly pleased by Davey’s affirmation. “D’you wanna come hang with me and the guys? They’d be glad to see you.”

He did. He missed them. That also sounded like a whole lot, right then. “I can’t, I’m sorry, I have to work on a project.” The project being his sanity.

Elmer nodded understandingly. “Gotcha. Well I’m glad you’re better, let’s hang soon, huh?”

Davey nodded, and Elmer smiled, clapping his shoulder affectionately as he turned to go.

Davey flinched. Hard. He hadn’t been touched since...well,  _ technically _ since Jack ran into him in the doorway of his and Crutchie’s bedroom. He hadn’t been properly, intentionally touched since Jack dragged him half-conscious out of a trashed frat house at eight in the morning, after—

By the time he realized he was hyperventilating, it was too late.

* * *

Jack had just dropped his backpack on the floor and fell backwards over the arm of the couch, planning to take a quick power nap before work, when there was a rapid knocking on the front door. With a groan, he rolled sideways off the couch, hitting the floor like a log. “I’m comin’,” he called, getting up and moving to the front door. He threw it open, ready to politely tell off whatever door-to-door salesman had interrupted his nap time, unless it was a Girl Scout selling cookies. He was not prepared for Davey, and he was especially not prepared for Davey looking like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Whoa, shit, hey.” His instinct, as always, was to wrap his arms around him, offering comfort and protection, but instead he just pushed the door further open and stepped aside so Davey could come in. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Davey opened his mouth, presumably to answer, but was immediately cut off by a broken sob. He wrapped one arm around himself and covered his mouth with the other hand as he began to break apart.

This was different than before, when Davey had shut down. Then, he had been somewhere else, deep inside his head. This time, he was right there. He was still  _ Davey _ , and everything in Jack screamed to hold him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re safe,” Jack assured him. “C’mere, come inside.”

Davey carefully stepped across the threshold, shaking all over, taking deep breath after deep breath that kept getting forced out of his lungs too quickly.

Jack shut the door behind him. “Let’s sit down, okay? Tell me what happened.”

Anticipating the worst, Jack could feel a little spark of anger quickly growing in his stomach, winding him up, ready to find who hurt Davey and make them regret it.

Davey followed Jack to the couch, where he curled up in one corner in that all too familiar way that made him look so much smaller than he was.

Jack barely perched on the edge of the couch, within reach, but not touching. “Davey,  _ what happened? _ ” he asked again, a little more insistently this time.

“My friend,” Davey said quietly. “He just—”

That little spark of anger was growing by the second. “He just  _ what? _ ” Jack began to stand up. “Dave, I swear to god, if somebody hurt you again—“

Davey shook his head quickly. “He just touched me. He touched me on the shoulder. That’s all he did.”

Jack practically deflated in relief. “Just touched you? You’re not hurt?”

Davey shook his head again, and Jack let out a slow breath, settling himself and sitting back down on the edge of the couch. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Davey said. His voice was still so small. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Nuh-uh. Stop that. You didn’t do anything wrong, Davey.”

Davey finally managed to take a slow breath. “I don’t know what happened.”

Jack paused for a moment, thinking before answering. “Nah, I get it. You haven’t been touched since—for a while.” He quickly changed the end of his sentence halfway through. “It’d be a shock for anyone. It’s okay,” Jack assured him gently. “Nothin’ bad happened; it was just a surprise. Nothin’ wrong with that. I’m right here, and you’re safe.”

“Yeah,” Davey sighed and closed his eyes. “I’m safe.”

“You’re safe,” Jack repeated, as much to himself as to Davey.

Davey looked up at him and smiled wanly. “Thank you. I love you.”

Jack mirrored his smile. “I love you too, Dave.”

With a glance at his phone, Jack sighed. “I’m gonna have to get ready for work soon...”

He didn’t want to leave Davey, when he had just come to Jack for comfort. He paused as an idea struck. “Oh hey, yknow that place we got ice cream awhile ago?”

Davey frowned. “Yeah?”

“It’s mostly in the same direction I gotta go for work.”

He blinked a couple times, then burst into a fit of watery giggles.

Jack faltered, surprised and mildly concerned. “Um...”

“You’re so  _ cute _ ,” Davey managed, wiping his eyes.

Jack sputtered wordlessly, as one would when quitting wouldn’t do Crutchie any good. “I’m asking you out—why is that cute?”

“Because I’m sad, and your solution is ice cream, and it’s just—”

Aaand Davey was crying again. Awesome.

“Oh no. Baby, no, don’t cry. I’m sorry.” Jack didn’t know quite  _ why _ he was sorry, but he was, and for the millionth time he had to stop himself from pulling Davey into his arms.

Davey shook his head. “No, I’m fine. You’re just—” He gestured entirely unhelpfully at Jack.

Jack exhaled shortly, amused but still baffled. “Okay...?”

“You’re wonderful,” Davey sighed, having managed to catch his breath again.

“Yeah okay, sure.” Jack chuckled.

Davey smiled again. “Ice cream sounds nice.”

* * *

“So?” Jack asked expectantly.

Davey frowned. “So what?”

“How right was I?”

Davey, who had ordered his vanilla ice cream with hot fudge, rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of adventure for a little vanilla bean like me.”

Jack laughed. “I think you can handle it. You deal with  _ me _ pretty well, so...”

“You’re not so difficult to deal with.” 

Okay, so maybe ice cream didn’t fix everything, but it sure as hell didn’t hurt. Davey felt better, and, although he wouldn’t admit it, Jack was very right.

“I’m not?” Jack feigned surprise. “Hmm, I guess I should try harder.”

This was one of those moments when it hit Davey just how beautiful Jack was, inside and out, in every way—how lucky he was to have him, to be the one who had caught his eye. Jack Kelly was one of a kind. Davey still didn’t know what Jack saw in him, but as they say, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If Jack wanted to be with him, Davey would treasure every second.

“Hey babe?” Jack’s voice broke through his reverie.

Davey shook head to clear his thoughts away. “Hm?”

“You good?” Jack was smiling at him with the mildest concern on his face. “You sorta spaced out there.”

“Yeah,” Davey said. “I’m good. I was just thinking...” He leaned back against his seat. “You bring out the best in me, you know?”

Jack narrowed his eyes, still smiling. “What do you mean?”

“What do I—” Davey laughed in fond exasperation. “I mean you bring out the best in me. What else do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say I’m right about the hot fudge.” Jack grinned.

Davey pouted over-dramatically.

Jack threw up his hands, equally dramatic. “All I do, and this is the thanks I get. Not so much as a ‘wow Jack, you’re absolutely right and I am a fool, how could I have ever doubted you?’.”

Davey batted his eyes and pouted even harder.

Jack frowned. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” He held up a finger as if to stop Davey, who hadn’t said anything. “Strike that,  _ I’m _ lucky you’re cute.”

“We’re both lucky I’m cute.” Davey winked.

Jack snickered. “God help me, I’m in love with a dork.”

“God can’t save you, now.”


	38. Race Is a Pretzel Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race comes to Jack for help and accidentally catapults Davey into the next stage of grief.

On Tuesday, around four o’clock, just before his last class of the evening, Jack’s phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he was greeted with an unknown number. After momentarily acting on reflex to silence it and put it back in his pocket, he remembered that he was looking for a job, and he quickly answered the phone. “Hello?”

A woman’s voice that just screamed ‘proper Southern belle’ floated through the phone. “Hello! Is this Mr. Jack Kelly?”

Jack was immediately his most charming and gracious self. “Yes it is, ma’am.”

“I’m Medda Larkin,” the woman said. She sounded like she was smiling. “You applied to help me out with my kids.”

For the briefest moment, Jack was baffled. ‘Help out with her kids’...? Oh, god, the nanny job. He nearly laughed aloud. “Yes, of course, Ms. Larkin. I’m so glad you reached out.”

“Well, I’m sorry it took me so long. I run a theatre, so weekends are a busy time. I was hoping—if you’re still interested, of course—to set up an interview some time this week.”

_ Oh my god. _

“Yes, that would be fantastic,” he replied, speaking with a heavy dose of intentional cheerfulness.

“Excellent! My schedule is pretty flexible during the week, so if you could just let me know what times work best for you...”

“Of course.” He quickly looked through his calendar. “How does Thursday at three o’clock sound?”

“Sounds perfect, honey. I’ll put in on my calendar. And is there a location that’s most convenient for you? I saw on your application that you are a student...”

“Oh, somewhere near campus would be great, but anything is fine by me.”

They decided on a nearby Starbucks, and Ms. Larkin bid him farewell until then. As soon as the line clicked off, Jack burst into laughter.

“Holy shit, I gotta tell Crutchie,” be mumbled to himself, still giggling as he hit Crutchie’s contact and put the phone to his ear again.

“Hey, Jack,” Crutchie answered

“Crutchie Crutchie Crutchie Crutchie Crutchie.” Jack took a second to laugh. “Remember how I applied to that part time nanny job?”

Crutchie gasped. “No way.”

“Yeah, I got an interview for Thursday.” Jack burst into laughter again.

“What the fuck,” Crutchie said, not at all like a question.

“ _ Right? _ Hi, Jack Kelly, starving artist, hardened criminal, and also a nanny.”

Crutchie snorted. “I would hardly call you a ‘hardened criminal’. You’re a very soft criminal. Nice and squishy. Perfect for kids.”

Jack was helpless with laughter.

The situation honestly wasn’t funny enough to warrant such a reaction, but after the past two weeks, all the pent up emotion had built to the breaking point, and this little crack of amusement had split the whole dam open. It took about a minute for the laughing to turn into crying, and Jack pressed his back against the wall of the hallway he was in, sliding down to sit on the floor.

“Woah, Jack, hey,” Crutchie asked gently, “are you alright?”

Jack laughed wetly. “Shit, sorry.” He took a steadying breath. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah no, it’s just been a lot lately, y’know?” Jack brushed his eyes with the back of his hand.

“It has. Man, you deserve a break.”

He chuckled. “Don’t I wish.”

“What do you want for dinner? I can get something on the way home.”

“You’re too good for me, Crutchie,” Jack said fondly.

“Great! I don’t how to cook that.”

* * *

Crutchie ended up making Jack an ungodly amount of farfalle with Ragu, then taking off to spend the evening with Lauren. Jack invited Davey over to help him eat the pasta, and wouldn’t you know, it turned into a downright pleasant evening.

“I can’t believe she actually called,” Jack said, having told Davey about the potential nannying job.

Davey tilted his head in adorable confusion. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“Who in their right mind would hire me as a nanny?” Jack laughed. “ _ Especially _ if they’re rich and own a theatre.”

Davey snorted. “You know a lot about the nannying community?

“Well, I have to, if I’m gonna have any chance in this interview!”

“You’re ridiculous,” he said fondly, shaking his head.

“No, I’m taking my future seriously,” Jack replied through a thick layer of satirical dignity.

Davey began to reply, but was cut off by a frantic banging on the front door, followed by an agonized, “Jaaaaack, Crutchiiieee!”

Jack startled a little, eyes widening in surprised concern as he turned to look at the door. “Hold that thought,” he said to Davey, frowning as he got up and crossed to open the door.

As soon as he turned the knob, the door swung open quickly, as if a heavy weight had been pressing on the other side, and indeed it had. One Racetrack Higgins came crashing through the doorway, belly flopping against Jack’s chest as the door he had been leaning on gave way under his weight. Jack scrambled to catch him, getting his arms under Race’s as he slid towards the floor.

“Dude, what the hell!?”

There were tear tracks on Race’s face, and the poor boy was making rather ridiculous, pathetic noises of upset. “It’s Albert,” he whined, and Jack immediately rolled his eyes and groaned, dropping Race onto the floor.

“Uh...is he okay?” Davey asked, still sitting on the couch. “Albert, I mean.”

Jack returned to the couch, eyes nearly rolling back into his head as Race sat up, barely inside the doorway.

“He brought another girl home,” Race sniffled.

Jack sighed heavily. “Racer, baby, that ain’t exactly headline news.”

“But I  _ love _ him!”

Jack sighed again, more sympathetic this time as he cast a short glance at Davey. He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like, how much it would hurt, if Davey didn’t love him back. “I know, kiddo, and I’m sorry, really.”

Ignoring Jack, Race looked up at Davey tearfully from his spot on the floor. “How did you do it?”

Davey frowned. “How did I—...do what?”

Race gestured helplessly at Jack. “Make a super hot and perfect guy fall in love with you.”

Jack pressed his lips together tightly, holding back a laugh at Race’s choice of words, and Davey stammered helplessly, looking to Jack for an answer.

Jack smiled, equally unsure. “It ain’t really about ‘makin’, Race...”

Race sobbed. “It ain’t fair!” He dropped his hands to the floor, making a slapping noise as they hit the hard tile. “I’d do  _ anything _ for him, and he’s just—” He gestured wildly.

Jack stood up, moving back over towards Race. “A’right kid, c’mere.” He got ahold of one of his flopping arms and pulled him up to his feet, into a bear hug. “You’re right, it ain’t fair,” he sighed. “but that’s how life is. Life ain’t fair.”

Race simply sobbed into Jack’s shoulder.

Jack cast a glance over towards Davey, suddenly launched back to when he jokingly said that he hoped him having kids wasn’t a deal breaker. Davey smiled sympathetically.

“It’s okay, Racer, just cry it out,” Jack assured him, rubbing a hand comfortingly across the boy’s back.

“I  _ love _ him.” Race spoke between heavy sobs.

“I know...”

Jack looked back at Davey, who was patiently watching the scene unfold. Davey offered him another smile. Jack sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as it did nearly every time he looked at Davey. Staggering a little as Race sagged his full weight against him, he mouthed ‘sorry’, apologizing to Davey for the interruption to their pleasant evening. Davey waved his hand as if batting his apology right out of the air before it could hit him, and shrugged.

Jack staggered again as Race somehow leaned more weight against him, despite Jack already entirely holding him up. “Okay, how are you so heavy? You’re a twig,” Jack asked rhetorically. He heaved Race back over his own feet. “A’right, work with me, bud, let’s get you in a chair or something.”

Pushing off of Jack’s chest, and out of his embrace, Race trudged the short distance to the couch and turned around, sitting on the arm and tipping backwards to crash across Davey’s lap. Davey’s eyes widened, and he tried to get out of the way, but Race was already there. The desolate boy rolled inwards to curl against Davey as, with a yelp, Jack lunged forward to grab him and rip him out of Davey’s lap and into his own as he crashed back to the floor.

Davey pulled his knees into his chest, face white as a sheet. Jack couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. He could feel the blood run out of his own face, horrified at Race’s unknowing blunder. The boy in question, now sprawled across Jack’s lap on the floor, frowned up at him in confusion.

“Sorry. Dave ain’t feelin’ great right now so landin’ on him ain’t the best...” Jack offered lamely.

Race was too upset to pursue the topic further. He simply rolled towards Jack instead, curling around his waist like an ill-fitting belt that had learned how to cry.

“Sorry, Dave,” he whimpered.

“It’s okay,” Davey replied, sounding surprisingly calm for someone who looked like he was about to pass out.

Jack tangled his fingers in Race’s hair, smoothing his other hand across his back comfortingly as the boy continued to cry loudly into Jack’s side. Jack’s gaze was still stuck on Davey, and he once again mouthed an apology, this one much heavier and more concerned. Davey was supposed to be safe, here.

Jack finally saw him take a breath, and Davey nodded. Jack nodded minutely, placing a hand on the floor, extended towards him, rather than properly reaching for him, as if to say ‘I’m here’.

“Jack, what do I  _ do? _ ” Race wailed into Jack’s side, the sound muffled by his shirt.

Jack cringed sympathetically, diverting his attention back to Race, but unable to pull his eyes off of Davey. “I don’t think there’s much you  _ can _ do, man. It’s better bein’ his friend than not having him at all, right?”

Race sniffed. “Yeah...”

“Yeah...” Jack echoed softly. “I know it hurts somethin’ awful. I wish I could help ya more.”

Race looked up at him. “Do you have pretzels?” he asked hopefully.

Stiffly, Davey stood up and retreated to the bathroom.

Jack bit back a sigh and nodded. “Yeah, just got a new bag of those Snyder’s pretzel bits.”

“Honey mustard?”

Another nod. “Knock yourself out, kid.”

Race extracted himself from Jack’s lap and practically ran for the kitchen. After grabbing the bag of pretzels, along with a can of Pepsi from the fridge, Race returned to the living room and plunked down on the floor again, resting his back against the couch. For the next thirty-five minutes, he tried to explain to Jack—who already very well knew all this—why Albert was so amazing, giving examples and sharing anecdotes, most of which Jack had been present for. Davey did not make another appearance.

Eventually, Race went home, taking the bag of pretzels with him, and Jack stood up with a heavy sigh.

“Hey Davey?” he called cautiously.

After a moment’s silence, the bathroom door opened, and Davey stepped back out. “Hey,” he said weakly, quickly resuming his previous placement on the couch.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack assured him, as he himself began to fiercely worry about it. It had been an accident, of course, but that didn’t make it any less upsetting. Reason doesn’t go nicely with trauma. “I’m sorry about all that, especially...” He gestured weakly towards Davey, alluding to Race’s crash landing. “He didn’t know, obviously, but that don’t make it much better.”

Davey stared straight ahead, but something in his eyes got a little bit sharper, his jaw got a little bit tighter. It was a tiny shift that only someone who had spent a considerable amount of time studying his face would have noticed. To Jack, it was unmistakably a tiny bit of righteous anger, and it was gorgeous.

“Is this going to happen every goddamn day?” Davey asked.

Jack frowned slightly. “Is what going to happen?”

“I can’t function,” Davey snapped. “I can’t get through a single day without falling apart or shutting down. It’s like my brain is fucking  _ broken _ .” He stood up and paced to the wall and back.

Jack’s gaze followed him as he went. “You ain’t broken, Davey—”

“Then what am I, Jack!?” Davey gestured to himself. “Do tell me what I am.”

“You’re you,” Jack replied, staying even and steady despite his temper rising to match Davey’s. “You’re Davey.  _ My _ Davey. And those motherfuckers hurt you, but they sure as shit didn’t break you. No one can do that.”

“You could.”

And everything crashed down around him. Jack was stunned for a moment. “I cou— What?”

“I love you,” Davey said, not affectionately but without a trace of uncertainty. “You could break me.”

“Dave, I don’t understand what you mean.”

He shook his head, “It’s not the point, anyway,” and started pacing again. “Hurt or broken, the point is that I’m tired of it.”

Jack wanted to push—What the hell did he mean, ‘you could break me’?—but he wasn’t about to change the current course of the conversation. Anger was better than numbness. Anger meant Davey recognized he had been wronged. Anger meant Davey knew he was worth something.

“I want to go to class and be able to focus,” Davey went on. “I want to hold hands with my boyfriend, for God’s sake. I want to have some semblance of independence and autonomy, and all that was taken from me, and that is what’s  _ not fucking fair! _ ” He exhaled, and his shoulders slumped, his face fell, and all the fight drained out of him again. “It’s not fucking fair.”

For what must have been the hundredth time, Jack’s heart broke for this beautiful boy in front of him. He was right, it  _ wasn’t _ fair. This sort of hurt wasn’t meant for people like Davey Jacobs. Smart, kind, clever Davey Jacobs, he deserved better, he deserved more.

“Dave, I know I probably can’t do much, but I swear to god, I will do whatever I have to to help you be okay again.” Jack shoved his hands deep into his pockets, quelling the constant temptation to reach out and touch him. “Don’t care what we gotta do, don’t care how long it takes. Whatever you need, I’m there.”

Davey nodded. When he spoke, his voice was almost inaudibly quiet. “I know.”

Jack couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear seeing him like this, couldn’t bear not being able to make it better, couldn’t bear being unable to comfort him, unable to help. “Just tell me what to do, Davey. Tell me what you need.”

He already knew there wouldn’t be an answer. There was nothing he could do, but he had to ask. He had to try.

Davey sighed and collapsed back onto the couch. “Just...tell me I’m still worth it.”

Jack couldn’t hold back a breathless laugh, taking a step back in an effort to diffuse the nervous energy bubbling inside him. “‘Still worth it’? Jesus Christ Dave, you’re all there is.” Another, shorter exhalation of helpless laughter as he dragged his hands back through his hair and down his neck. “It scares the hell out of me, but that’s the truth. Anything,  _ everything _ , it’s all you, now. I’ve never thought about a future before. Not  _ really _ .” He was babbling now, unable to stop. “Sure, I want to sell my art, and it’s always gonna be me an’ Crutchie, but that’s it. That’s all I had. No plan, no drive, just...keeping going.” He dropped his gaze to his hands, fidgeting. “But now, since I got you...” He let out a short breath. “Shit, now I got somethin’ to try for.”

A ghost of a smile flickered on Davey’s lips, there and gone so fast Jack wondered if he had imagined it. “I love you.”

Jack sighed, slowly sitting down in the armchair nearby. “I love you too, Davey, more than anything.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Jack nodded. “You will. Not yet, but you will.”

Hell, he mused, Davey Jacobs was too goddamn stubborn to be anything else.

“How’s Race?” Davey asked in an obviously intentional change of subject.

Jack willingly took the bait. “He stole our pretzels.”


	39. Davey Is the Best Thing That Has Ever Happened to Jack (Crutchie Doesn't Count)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack goes to a job interview, and more details of his past are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are currently working on the 44th chapter of this nonsense. The only thing holding us back from posting is editing, and I'm about to go to my last class of the semester (!!!), so hopefully I will have more time soon. That said, I'm hoping to throw some rapid-fire updates at you in the next few days.

It was Thursday, and Jack was forty minutes early for his interview. He was always a nervous wreck when it came to job interviews, and the three black coffees he’d had by this point certainly weren’t helping. The picture of charisma and wit, of course, once the interview started, but before and after, he was a jittery mess. Landing this job, landing  _ any _ job, was another little weight on the scale that balanced desolate poverty against barely scraping by.

Hoping for a distraction, Jack texted Davey. “ _ Hey _ ”

“ _ Hey, love, _ ” Davey responded. “ _ Getting ready for your interview? _ ”

“ _ Yeah I’m at the Starbucks _ ”

“ _ Oh, I thought you said the interview was at 3? _ ”

“ _ Uh, yeah it is, I’m a bit early… _ ”

“ _ You’re adorable _ .” Then, in another message, “ _ Don’t worry so much. Just be yourself, and she’ll love you _ .”

Jack couldn’t help but smile. If anyone else had said it, he’d be rolling his eyes, but this was Davey, and that made it almost believable. He shot a message back. “ _ I love you _ ”

“ _ I love you more _ .”

Jack laughed at this. “ _ Don’t be gross _ ”

“ _ I don’t know what you mean, schnookums _ .”

“ _ Eeeeewwww _ ”

“ _ Muffin _ .”

Jack sent a throwing up emoji, followed quickly by a heart

“ _ Pudding? _ ”

“ _ Why are you so mean to me? _ ”

“ _ Because I love you _ .” A moment’s pause. “ _ Sweetcheeks _ .”

Jack laughed again. “ _ you’re adorable _ “

“ _ No, I already said that about you.” _

“ _ birds of a feather, or whatever that is _ “

“ _ Okay then, my darling little pigeon, I have class. Good luck on your interview, but you don’t need it. I love you _ .”

“ _ I love you too, text me later? _ “

“ _ I need a full report as soon as you’re done _ .”

“ _ Of course _ ”

Jack slid his phone back into his pocket, looking up and around, in case his potential employer had arrived. She hadn’t. Jack let out a huff of breath and slumped a little in his chair. There’s nothing quite like the impatience and discomfort of being very, very early to something important, especially when on a wicked caffeine high.

At four-till-three, a well-dressed woman entered the Starbucks, carrying a baby with one arm and holding the hand of a toddler with the other. Jack looked up at their entrance, guessing that this was his potential employer, but not wanting to be some weirdo who just walks up and introduces himself to a random mother and her children. By some stroke of luck, he was the only college-aged man sitting alone, so she noticed him.

“Are you Jack?” she asked, sounding simultaneously exhausted and impressively put-together in a way Jack had only ever heard from himself.

He nodded, easily sliding into that Ever Smiling Ever Charming Jack ‘Entertainment’ Kelly that those least close to him knew and loved so well. “Yes ma’am.” He had risen from his chair as she addressed him, and at her approach, Jack stepped around to pull one of the other chairs back a bit, offering her a seat in that rather old fashioned way.

She beamed, taking the seat. “Thank you, sweetie. I hope you weren’t waiting here too long. I try to be much earlier to appointments, but these kids are a handful and a half.”

“Oh, no trouble at all, Ms. Larkin,” Jack assured her as he took his own seat. “I’m always very early, myself, so nothing to worry about.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you,” she said, helping the toddler into her own chair and settling the baby in her arms.

The first thing Jack noticed was that the children were...not hers. Not biologically, anyway. He supposed the baby could have been, if the father was very white—but while Ms. Larkin had dark skin, the baby was tan at best, and the toddler was clearly Asian.

After a quick smile to Ms. Larkin, Jack momentarily turned his attention to the little girl now sitting to his left. “Hello, my name’s Jack. What’s your name?”

The little girl smiled and giggled, shying a bit back towards her mother.

“Don’t be shy, sweetie;” Ms. Larkin told her, “tell him your name.”

“May,” she said.

Jack smiled that big, beautiful smile of his, carefully crafted years ago to be irresistibly charming. “It’s nice to meet you, May.”

Ms. Larkin pulled a coloring book and crayons out of her bag with her free hand and pushed them across the table to the girl. “Here you go, sweetie.”

May happily started scribbling red over Minnie Mouse’s face, and Ms. Larkin turned her attention to Jack.

“So, Jack, I have to ask, what makes a young man like yourself apply to be a part time nanny? No offense, of course, but you don’t look like the type.”

Turning back to Ms. Larkin, Jack laughed lightly. “Well, you wouldn’t guess it to look at me, but I’ve been raising kids for, well, most of my life, really.”

“Is that so?” she asked in that skeptical way people do.

He nodded. “Yes ma’am. I grew up in the foster system, see.” For some reason, knowing that Ms. Larkin had adopted made him a lot more willing to offer the bare basics of his past—only so much as was pertinent to the conversation, of course. “And group homes frequently aren’t the best when it comes to care and comfort, so I picked up the slack.”

“Well, ain’t that somethin’.” Ms. Larkin pursed her lips. “I happen to know a little bit about the system, myself.” She patted May on the head.

Jack chuckled. “Small world, huh?”

“I didn’t make a very good foster mom, myself. Ended up adopting all four I got.” Ms. Larkin chuckled as well. “Tell me a little bit about you, though.”

He beamed. “If you ask me that’s the best kind of foster mom.” Taking a breath to resettle his cheerfulness, Jack clasped his hands, resting his forearms on the table. “As for myself, I’m a senior at NYU, Studio Art. Got a great roommate—he’s been with me since the group home.” He shrugged a bit. “I’ve been in New York my whole life, so I’m not that well traveled, but I got a good grasp on what I got.”

Ms. Larkin nodded. “That’s all very nice, Jack.”

“Got CPR certified last year. They offered the training as an opportunity for extra credit in my help class, so that’s nice.” Jack paused for a moment, settling an open and bright gaze on Ms. Larkin. “Is there anything specific you’d like to know?”

“Well, Jack, I don’t know; you seem just perfect. Now cut the crap.” Ms. Larkin narrowed her eyes. “I run a theatre, Honey; I know when someone’s putting on a show. And hey, If the nannying thing doesn’t work out, I think you could have a really promising career doing just that.”

Momentarily startled, Jack laughed. “Can’t blame a fella for trying.” He shot a grin in her direction, just the slightest bit teasing. “I’m not perfect by any means, certainly, but I  _ am _ CPR certified. Even got a fancy little scrap of paper that says so.” Another smile before he affixed a more sincere, serious look on his face. “Honestly, ma’am, I’m not much in the way of fancy Mary Poppins type material—no second language to teach the kids or degree in mental pathology, but I work hard, and whatever I’ve got to do, I make sure to do it right.”

“Mmhm.” Ms. Larkin pulled a notebook out of her bag. “I ran a background check on you, like I do with all my applicants. There are some things I’d like to ask you about.”

Jack pressed his lips tightly together for a moment and nodded shortly. “Rightly so. I’d be happy to answer any—” He was cut off by May suddenly stabbing at his arm on the table with the crayon in her hand.

“Cha-tweuse,” she said, proudly showing him the  _ chartreuse _ crayon.

He blinked rapidly for a moment, finding the sudden change in atmosphere somewhat jarring, and he turned a portion of his attention to his small assailant. “Oh hey, nice choice! I like the ones with long names, too.”

She grinned and picked out a blue, announcing it as, “Ce-wu-len.”

Ms. Larkin chuckled and patted the little girl’s head again. “That’s very nice, May. Why don’t you color with the chartreuse and the cerulean?”

Jack smiled at her encouragingly before turning his attention fully to Ms. Larkin, waiting for whatever question she was going to ask that would ruin his chances. Maybe she’d even contact the university and try to get him thrown out for his ‘callous behavior’ and ‘violent history’, like Meghan Helms from Art History in junior year. Jack still didn’t fully follow the logic of exposure and potential expulsion being an equalizing method of revenge for the time he proved her wrong in regards to something pertaining the class that was so inconsequential he couldn’t even remember anymore.

“Please, go ahead,” he prompted politely.

Ms. Larkin checked her notes. “Let’s see...you’ve been in trouble with the law...three times? 2013, 2014, and 2016?”

Jack nodded, silently thanking his lucky stars that he’d only been caught those few times. “Yes ma’am. Things didn’t particularly go to plan, straight out of the group home, so I had to improvise a bit, keeping mine and Charlie’s heads above water. I don’t have any Robin Hood-esque delusions about that time, I know it was wrong, but I had to keep us fed and not-frozen, so I did what I had to.”

“I appreciate your honesty.”

May, who had wiggled her way off her chair, was now trying to climb into Jack’s lap.

Jack nodded tightly. “Of course.” After a quick glance downwards, he looked back to Ms. Larkin and gestured towards the toddler. “May I?”

Ms. Larkin cringed. “May, use your words.” Then, quieter, to Jack, “You can tell her no, if you’d rather.”

“Can I come up?” May asked.

With a quick smile to Ms. Larkin, Jack looked back to May. “For sure. Do you want help?”

“No.” May grabbed his arm with her hands and kicked one of her legs up over his lap and pulled herself up. She settled herself facing the table and reached, making a grabbing motion with her hand towards her coloring book.

Jack laughed. “Well alright, then. I don’t speak crab hands, though,” he made a similar motion to hers, “so you’re gonna have to tell me what you’re after.”

She whined and pointed at her coloring book.

Ms. Larkin sighed. “What is that called, May?”

May pouted at her mother, then at the book. Then, “Colow book!”

Jack glanced at Ms. Larkin to make sure this was an adequate response before reaching across the table and dragging the book over, along with the crayons resting beside it. He placed his forearms on the table again, a little wider this time, effectively making railings so May couldn’t topple out of his lap. He turned his attention once more to Ms. Larkin. “Did you have other questions?”

May flipped to a Peter Pan coloring page and shoved a purple crayon into Jack’s hand.

“Well, Jack,” Ms. Larkin sighed, “by all accounts, you’re a risk. You’re under-qualified, you have a criminal record, you have no professional experience with kids—”

“Colow!” May demanded.

Ms. Larkin reprimanded her gently, “May, ask nicely.”

“Please?”

Shooting a quick smile at the little girl, Jack dutifully began to color, maintaining his focus on Ms. Larkin. “Honestly, ma’am, I was surprised you even called.”

He was surprised by the sudden stab of disappointment in his gut. He’d only applied in the first place because it was a funny concept, him being a nanny. With Crutchie and Davey’s encouragement, though, he had almost started to take the idea seriously, and, as is the Jack Kelly brand, he had somehow managed to already get attached to the energetic little creature in his lap that was very seriously showing him how to color Peter Pan’s hat.

“You know why I did?” Ms. Larkin asked.

“Can’t say that I do, ma’am.”

“You are the only boy that applied,” she told him. “The only one, and I’ve got two boys at home. I’ve never been a twelve year old boy, Jack. I just can’t relate.”

“Oh lord, a twelve year old boy? I rescind my application,” Jack replied with a little grin.

Ms. Larkin laughed. “I wouldn’t even blame you. My boys are twelve and nine, and let me tell you,  _ these _ two,” she gestured between May and the baby, “are a piece of cake.”

“I’ve just realized how incredibly rude I am,” Jack said matter of factly. “I completely forgot to ask the little one’s name.” He nodded towards the baby.

Ms. Larkin smiled. “Catalina.”

“Beautiful name.”

“Thank you.” She leaned forward slightly. “So tell me, Jack, why should I take a chance on you?”

“Well, for one, your daughter won’t let go of my sleeve,” Jack chuckled.

This was true; May had wound one of her little hands up in the fabric just below his elbow, and was tugging on his arm, guiding him to a different part of the coloring page every few seconds. The result was a messy squiggle of purple, but it seemed to be going exactly as she wanted it to.

The problem was, Ms. Larkin was right. Jack _ was _ under-qualified. With a criminal record and no verifiable experience, he was wildly less than an ideal applicant. Hell,  _ he _ certainly wouldn’t hire him.

He sighed, lifting one hand to push his fingers through his hair. “Okay, look. I been workin’ two jobs on top of school, struggling to make ends meet as it is. I just got fired from one of ‘em, and honestly I’m kinda desperate.” He shrugged tiredly, fully expecting an immediate refusal. “So here I am. Like I said before, I got no fancy bells and whistles, but I work hard.” Another shrug. “‘S all I got.”

“Why’d you get fired?” Ms. Larkin asked, impassive.

Jack gently lifted May off his lap, preparing to leave. This interview had been a long shot in the first place, and it had gone nowhere but downhill from the very start. “My boyfriend nearly died, and I skipped out on work to take care of him,” he replied plainly.

Ms. Larkin’s eyes widened. “Oh dear. I hope he’s okay?”

Another tired sigh. “We’re getting there.” Jack stood up, offering a polite smile. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, ma’am.”

She frowned. “What are you talkin’ about, honey?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “I’m sure ‘gay ex-con who got fired for skipping work’ isn’t exactly the goal when looking for child care.”

“Sure ain’t,” she agreed, “but I think there’s more to you than that, don’t you?”

He frowned, mildly perplexed. “I would certainly hope so, ma’am.”

She stood as well, scooping her things off the table and back into her bag. “I got a feeling about you, Jack Kelly. Some people call me crazy, but my intuition’s never wrong.”

Increasingly perplexed, a bit of a smile began to pull at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so?”

“It also just so happens that I’m ‘kinda desperate’, too.” She smiled back at him. “If you want the job, I’ll give you a chance.”

* * *

“—and since the whole thing was just a disaster, I decided to go, not waste any more of her time or whatever, and then she  _ hired me!? _ ”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jack could practically hear Davey’s painfully confused expression through the phone. “You actually called yourself a ‘gay ex-con who got fired for skipping work’, and she hired you?”

“ _ Yes! _ I dunno if she’s crazy or what—”

“Why would you even bring that up?” Davey laughed.

“I didn’t, though. I’m not a  _ complete _ idiot.” Jack chuckled. “She found my record.”

“Your—...oh shit, is that not sealed?”

“Wh—no?” He frowned. “Why would it be?”

“It’s a juvie record.”

Jack’s legs locked up so suddenly that he nearly got a face full of cement. Davey didn’t know. Those few months ago when he had laid it all open and told Davey his ‘tragic backstory’, he’d started panicking before he managed to finish.

Although this was one of the least ideal moments to tell his boyfriend he was a thrice convicted thief, Jack had dug himself a nice little hole, and he didn’t really have a way to avoid it. “Shit...” he muttered, entirely unsure how to explain this part of his history without upsetting Davey.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Davey caught on. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Jack hesitated about a breath too long before answering. “Yeah...”

Davey groaned, “Jack...”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, really. I haven’t been trying to hide anything, I promise,” Jack spoke quickly. “Back when I was telling you everything I started panicking before we got to all of it, and there just wasn’t ever a good spot to bring it up. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Davey huffed. “I never asked you to disclose every detail of your life. It’s in the past. It’s fine.”

It didn’t sound very fine.

“I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

“I just said it’s fine.”

Jack bit his lip, feeling wildly guilty, and knowing that he was only going to upset Davey more if he kept talking. “Do you want to talk about it? You could come over, or we could go somewhere...”

Davey paused. “I need to do homework, Jacky.”

Jack let out a slow breath. Ah yes, the perfect time for a massive fuck up, just when things were getting better, right on schedule. “I’m sorry...Can we talk later?”

“Yes, of course. I love you.”

“I love you too, Davey.”

The phone beeped as the call ended, and Jack let his arm fall and dropped his head back, groaning loudly. It was his own damn fault, he should’ve brought it up.

As usual, his instinct was to get Crutchie. Crutchie always helped.

* * *

“What were you thinking? You absolute  _ idiot _ .”

Ah, yes. Crutchie always helped.

Jack whined, twisting away in a fruitless attempt to dodge his own idiocy, he walked into the kitchen and leaned towards the counter, dropping his head to land with an unpleasant  _ thunk _ . “I forgot!”

Crutchie slammed his palms on the counter. “You  _ forgot _ to tell your boyfriend about not one, not two, but  _ three _ actual arrests, one of which landed you in the pen for a whole goddamn year? You  _ forgot? _ ”

More nonsensical whining as Jack miserably slid to the floor, dragged down by the weight of his own big dumb head. “You were there! I told him, and I panicked, and then it never came up again, and I forgot!”

“I swear to god, Jack, I don’t know how you survived to adulthood.”

“I had to; who else would’a taken care of you?” Jack grumbled, dropping his head back against the cabinets as he sat on the floor.

“Rude. I’m super lovable.” Crutchie pushed himself up to sit on the counter next to where Jack was slumped on the floor.

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, I know. Pretty sure the only reason you never got adopted is I bit the social worker every time he tried to split us.”

Crutchie laughed and kicked Jack’s shoulder. “You bitch!”

“Oh, shut up, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I wasn’t around.” Jack retorted affectionately, smacking at Crutchie’s foot.

“And you’d be lost without me,” Crutchie shot back.

Jack laughed, sliding further onto the floor. “Man, you’re here, and I’m  _ still _ lost as shit.”

Crutchie sighed. “Man, I hate that this is one of the less catastrophic things you and Dave have been through in the short time you’ve been together, but...this is one of the the less catastrophic things you and Dave have been through in the short time you’ve been together, you know.”

Jack sighed as well, now flat on his back with the top of his head by the cabinets. “Yeah...’s pretty fucked up.”

“You gonna talk to him about it?

“Of course I am. I have to.” He sighed again. “I should’ve done it before.”

“Yep.” Crutchie hopped off the counter. “You’re stupid.”

“What was I supposed to do, though?” Jack gestured aimlessly towards the ceiling. “‘Hey babe, how was class? By the way, have I mentioned that I’m actually a proper criminal?’.”

Crutchie was already in the living room. “Not my problem!” he called back.

Jack groaned loudly, rolling over slowly to lay face down on the kitchen tiles, and fail to think of good ways to explain his relatively extensive life of crime.

* * *

The roof was where Jack went to escape his problems. The cool air usually helped him think and calmed him down. On this particular night, he was just cold, and the fact that he couldn’t snuggle up to Davey made him colder, and it wasn’t even all that cold out.

Jack and Davey were laying down on the roof, looking up at the sky. It was too dark to see the clouds, the only indication of their presence being the complete lack of stars. It looked like someone had pulled a black velvet blanket over the top of the city.

“It’s better when it’s clear, obviously,” Jack said softly, “but I kind of like it this way, too; with the sky all dark and soft. It feels sort of like someone put the whole world in a big, plushy box.”

He didn’t know why he was talking about the sky. He  _ wanted _ to talk about what had happened, what he hadn’t told Davey and why, but every time he tried to start, something entirely different and unimportant came out instead.

Davey turned his head to the side to look at him, and Jack had to remind himself to breathe, because Davey’s eyes were just so beautiful. It took a moment for his mind to kick back into gear, and he sighed softly. “I’m sorry, Davey...”

Davey’s expression was unreadable. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to, I meant to, it just...didn’t happen,” he replied lamely. “And I know that isn’t even a proper reason.”

“What did you do?”

Jack sat up, running a hand nervously through his hair before resting his forearms on his knees. “Davey, the way I grew up...I didn’t have a choice. Most of the group homes I was placed in didn’t have the funding to properly deal with as many kids as got dumped on ‘em. There was never  _ enough _ . Kids went hungry, kids were cold, you heard the coat story.” He gestured aimlessly as if directing Davey’s attention back to that afternoon of chaos with ‘the guys’.

Davey looked at Jack intently. He wasn’t visibly upset or angry, but not knowing what was going on in his head was almost worse.

Jack dropped his gaze. “After Crutchie and I got out...” He sighed. “It was real hard. No one wanted to give a job to a homeless juvenile delinquent or his crippled little brother, so we were sorta stuck.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, having trouble looking at Davey. “I...I did what I had to do, to keep us alive. Food and clothes, mostly. Never from people, only from stores an’ stuff, and never more than we needed.” He let out a small, unhappy huff of not quite laughter. “Still wasn’t enough, but it kept us going.”

“And you got in trouble,” Davey prompted.

Jack nodded. “Yeah. Got caught first time when I was eighteen. Security at Aldi is better than you’d expect.” He sighed. “I got off pretty easy for that one, just a month inside. Crutchie was able to go back to the home, since he was only sixteen...course I still had legal custody, so once I got out again, he did too.” Jack glanced at Davey and wished he hadn’t. His face was like stone, and that was much more concerning than if he had been angry. Jack cleared his throat before he continued. “When I was nineteen, I got caught again. Crutchie’d gotten sick, see, so I tried to get him some medicine or something to help. That didn’t go to plan, obviously, so I went back inside, and he went back to the home.” He sighed again, more regretting the hardship for Crutchie than his own discomfort.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Davey nod slightly. At least it was a reaction.

Jack hesitated, he didn’t want to keep talking, didn’t want to say the next part, but he had to. He’d promised Davey no more lies, and at this point, to leave it out would be a lie. He took a slow, slightly shaky breath, trying to steady himself. “We made it through the next two years without me gettin’ in any more trouble. I tried damn hard to find work, odd jobs an’ stuff, so’s we could buy food instead of nabbing it. Things were a little better, I guess, still didn’t have a roof over our heads, but at least we was eating.” He took a slow breath, blinking hard. “That next winter was real bad. Somethin’ near breaking some record for bein’ cold or some shit, and the places we’d been holing up in nights weren’t gonna cut it no more. An unlocked garage is all well and good, but not good enough when it’s as cold as it was.” Jack took another breath, pausing in an effort to stall the tears that were starting to itch behind his eyes. “Crutchie’s leg always gets worse when it’s cold...I had to do  _ something _ ...” He paused, attempting to look up at Davey, and failing entirely. “So I uh...found a place. There was this little bookshop. Some little old guy owned it, kept real weird hours. It uh,” he winced, “it was pretty easy to break into; old locks and no security system,” he sighed heavily, “but someone saw us going in and called the cops. I managed to get Crutchie out, but I got caught.” He chuckled, drained and entirely humorless. “Again.” Jack paused to run the back of his hand roughly over his eyes, pushing away the tears that were starting to sneak through, his breath came out in a pained, wet laugh. “Kept me for just under a year, that time.”

Davey sat up next to him, and he looked away, ashamed, afraid of what he’d see if he looked at Davey—disappointment? Disgust? Pity?

“Jack, look at me.”

Jack wrapped his arms around his bent knees and pressed his lips together tightly, shaking his head, determined to actually finish the story this time, before he fell apart again. “‘S my own fault. I know that. I was tryin’ to keep him safe, but that don’t make it okay.” Another shaky breath, and this time the tear tracks he brushed away were immediately replaced by more. “Crutchie was eighteen then, he couldn’t go back to the group home. An’ I couldn’t—” Thr word ended in a choked rush of breath as Jack dropped his head into his folded arms.

“Jack...” Davey said softly. Jack could hear him shift closer, not touching but close.

“I shoulda figured something else out, I shoulda—” He choked on a quiet sob.

“Jack, you did what you could.”

He shook his head again. “I shoulda done better.”

Davey sighed. “Look at me?”

With another shaky breath, Jack turned to face him, once again pointlessly brushing the back of his hand across his eyes.

Davey reached out, almost touching Jack’s shoulder, before recoiling with a wince. “I don’t want you to be afraid or ashamed to tell me things.”

When Davey reached towards him, Jack stopped breathing, and when he pulled away again, what little air was left in his lungs followed.

“I’m sorry...”

“Stop apologizing,” Davey demanded. “Please.” He shook his head. “Jack, I’m not mad at you.”

Jack didn’t answer beyond struggling to even out his breathing. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what he expected.

“I just want to understand...” Davey said quietly.

Jack exhaled slowly. “Okay...” He looked at Davey, silently prompting him to ask whatever questions he had.

“I just...” Davey hesitated for a moment. “I just want to know why you felt like you couldn’t tell me.”

He laughed wetly. “Dave, I’ve never told  _ anyone _ .”

Davey pressed his lips together and looked away—begrudging acceptance, it seemed.

“I’m—” Jack cut himself off before apologizing again, dropping his gaze to his feet.

“Hey,” Davey said softly, “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I don’t want that.”

Jack shook his head again. “You didn’t.”

“Okay...” Davey sounded entirely unconvinced of that fact.

Jack looked up to meet his gaze. “Really, you didn’t. You got every right to know, and I shouldn’t’a tried to dodge it.”

Davey frowned. “I don’t have a right to know. It’s your life, your past.”

“I  _ want _ you to know, Davey. I want you to know everything, but I’m so goddamn scared that you’re gonna realize what a complete disaster I am and leave.”

Davey smiled at him. “I already know you’re a complete disaster, and I’m still here.”

Jack laughed again, wiping his hand across his face, to better effect this time, now that the tears had slowed. “You have the biggest bullshit tolerance out of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Years of living with Lester Jacobs will do that to a person.”

With a small smile, Jack sighed quietly. “You know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, right?”

“I doubt that.”

“Pray tell, what other good has happened to me? And you can’t say Crutchie; Crutchie doesn’t count.”

Davey sputtered. “What do you mean, Crutchie doesn’t count!?”

Jack waved his hand dismissively, more dodging an answer than anything. “He’s a different category from everything else—not comparable.”

“Fine.” Davey lay back down and looked back up at the sky. “I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Jack smiled softly, still sitting up, he took a moment to just look at Davey. It felt so good to hear him joking again, things may not be normal yet, but they were getting there.


	40. Shenannygans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's first day as a nanny for the Larkin kids.

Saturday was Jack’s first day working for Ms. Larkin, and he was incredibly nervous. He’d never worked for someone personally before, especially not someone like Ms. Larkin. Determined to impress, or at least be met with approval, Jack tried on about four different potential outfits, each shot down by Crutchie, before settling on khakis and that light blue button up he’d stolen from Davey, open over a white T-shirt.

Unfortunately, Ms. Larkin’s house was far enough away that he had to take the bus. Checking the address on his phone again as he walked from the bus stop, Jack was growing more anxious by the minute. The corner that the bus had dropped him on was at the edge of a  _ very _ nice neighborhood—big houses, wrought iron fences, and bright, well-manicured front lawns. A few even had those big, U-shaped driveways that came up under a little awning at the front of the house, almost like a hotel.

After walking for about five minutes, he found it. It was a big, brick thing, with a high A-frame roof and ivy artfully crawling up the walls here and there. It had the air of a fairytale manor house that had been purchased by a rich widower in order to make his new wife and her insufferable daughters happy, while his own daughter insisted that their old farm was plenty good enough.

Jack made his way up the driveway, which was lined with low, well trimmed hedges, and stepped up to the front porch. He reached towards the heavy-looking, dark, wooden door and hesitated. Should he knock like a normal person, or use the fancy little bronze door knocker? Was there a doorbell somewhere? After a short deliberation, Jack decided to go ahead and knock like a normal person.

Nothing happened for a minute. He was just about to knock again, when Ms. Larkin opened the door.

She smiled warmly. “Good morning, honey.”

Jack returned the smile. “Good morning, ma’am.”

Ms. Larkin ushered him inside, waving her hand as if brushing off his comment. “Oh, none of this ‘ma’am’ business. Call me Medda.” She turned to call up the stairs. “Boys! Get down here and say hello!”

Jack tried not to gape at the room around him as he stepped inside. It was exactly what one would expect from the foyer of a fancy ass house in New York City, owned by the proprietor of a theatre—lavish, but tasteful.

A boy in blue plaid pajama pants and a white shirt—the twelve-year-old, Jack guessed—appeared at the top of the stairs, yawning.

“Chris,” Medda said, “this is Jack Kelly. Jack, this is my oldest, Chris.”

Jack smiled, nodding at the boy as he descended the stairs. “Hey, Chris. Nice to meet’cha.”

Chris responded simply, “Hey

Medda chuckled. “He’ll be more talkative, once he wakes up. Normally, May and the baby are the only ones awake at this hour, but I woke the boys up to meet you.” She turned and called up the stairs again. “Jackson!” Then, to Jack, “Oh, my nine-year-old is Jack, too.”

“How about that?” Jack mused.

There was a dull thud in the other room, and one of the little girls—May, probably. It didn’t sound high pitched enough to be Catalina—started crying.

Medda sighed. “I’ll be right back.” She hurried into the other room, leaving Chris and Jack in the foyer.

Jack watched her leave before turning back to look at Chris, relaxing into an open, friendly not-quite-smile. “Sorry about ruining your chance to stay in bed all day. Saturday morning comas are always the best part of the weekend.”

Chris brightened up a little, apparently put at ease by Jack’s manner. “Yeah, they are.”

“My one friend gets up at, like, six and goes running on Saturday mornings.” He shook his head, twisting his mouth in bafflement.

Chris wrinkled up his nose in disgust. “Why?”

“Right? I don’t get it.” Jack made a similar face. “I lost a bet a few months ago, and I had to go with him. I nearly died.”

Medda returned with a teary-eyed May on her hip. “Chris, would you go get your brother, please?”

Chris nodded and started up the stairs, and Medda turned to Jack.

“Come on, honey, let me show you around.”

Jack nodded, falling in step a bit behind Medda as she continued. From the entryway, she led him through the kitchen—“I made a list of everything you need to know about the kids. It’s on the table there. My contact information is on the fridge.”—into the formal dining room, then the formal living room, the den, the office, and showed him where the bathrooms were. And that was just the downstairs.

“Your house is amazing,” Jack said sincerely as he followed along.

“Thank you, honey. It was my father’s before he died. Would have been a shame to keep such a big place all to myself.

He nodded and a grin slid onto his face. “So what got you started fostering?”

“Well, I never got married, but I love kids, and with a place like this...” She gestured around her, letting the house speak for itself.

Jack nodded again. “That’s a pretty good reason. It’s amazing, actually. Most folks ain’t so generous.”

“‘Most folks’ could stand to be more so.”

They looped back around into the entry just as Chris was making his way back down the stairs with a younger boy. Medda gestured towards them. 

“Jackson, this is Jack.” She smiled, probably amused by the similarity in names.

Jack chuckled. “Hi Jackson, ‘s nice to meet you.”

Jackson frowned. “My name’s Jack.”

“Yeah,” Chris said, “but you’re both Jack, so we gotta call you ‘Jackson’.”

Jackson did not look amused by this fact.

Jack shrugged. “If y’want, we can call me somethin’ else. I don’t mind.“

“What’s your middle name?” Chris asked.

Jack winced as if someone had just chopped his ankle with the edge of a Razor scooter. “Nah, it’s the worst, we can come up with something better.”

“What is it?” Chris insisted, grinning like a hyena.

Jack screwed his face up. “You’re not gonna let me get outta this, huh?”

Both boys shook their heads.

“I could just lie...” he teased, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a playful smirk.

“Already a wonderful influence on my children, I see,” Medda chimed in.

Jack laughed. “Ah, you caught me. That was a test, and you passed.” He shot a grin towards Medda. “Your prize is the painful truth...” He paused for dramatic effect. “...of my middle name.”

The boys and Medda stood in rapt attention.

He took a deep breath, as if preparing for some sort of impact. “Francis.”

Silence, then laughter from the boys.

Jackson sneered, “Did your parents hate you?”

“Jack!” Medda scolded.

Jack felt very much like he had just been slapped in the face, and for a moment the room seemed very cold. He cleared his throat, raising a hand to push his fingers uncomfortably through his hair. “No way of knowing, really.”

Medda glowered at her younger son. “You owe Jack an apology.”

“Sorry,” Jackson mumbled.

“It’s alright,” Jack said graciously. “Not a great thing to say to folks, generally, though.”

Medda huffed, “Well,” then put a smile back on her face and turned to Jack, “let me show you the rest of the house.”

The rest of the house was just as impressive and staggeringly different from everything Jack was used to as the first floor had been. There was the big staircase that wrapped around the side and back of the foyer, of course, but turns out there was also a secret staircase that started in a tall cabinet in the kitchen and came out upstairs through a narrow door next to one of three bathrooms. Medda explained that this was for the servants’ use, back when the house was built and that type of thing was standard. There were five bedrooms—one of which had been transformed into a playroom, as May and Catalina shared a room for now—and there was a laundry shoot in one of the bathrooms, which Jack thought was just the coolest thing ever for no justifiable reason.

In Chris’ room, she took special care to point out that he had an EpiPen in his bedside table drawer for a peanut allergy. “There’s another downstairs in the kitchen that I forgot to show you,” she explained. “Chris and Jack—Jackson—both know where it is.”

Jack nodded. “Good to know.”

“If anything comes up, I’ll have my phone on me all day. Feel free to call.”

He nodded again. “Absolutely.”

They made their way back down the hall and down the stairs. The boys had vacated the foyer, but Jack could hear them in the kitchen.

Lowly, Medda added, “Chris has his shit together; you won’t have to worry about him, for the most part. He knows to tell you if he’s going somewhere, and feel free to let him. He’s got a phone. His number’s written down on that paper in the kitchen, and I gave him yours. Let’s see, what else...” She was clearly a little nervous about the prospect of leaving her children.

“Ms. Larkin, you don’t need to worry about a thing,” Jack assured her, momentarily forgetting her instruction to call her Medda. “You’ve clearly left me in the hands of a very capable manager,” he gestured towards the kitchen, indicating Chris, “and I definitely have experience wrangling chaotic children.” He smiled.

“Alright.” Medda smiled back. “Call if you need  _ anything _ .” She tried to set May down, but the toddler whined and clung to her, then started to cry again. Medda sighed. “Would you mind?” She gestured from May to Jack.

“Oh no, yeah, of course.” Jack opened his arms to take the little girl as Medda handed her off. May seemed further upset by this change in locale, as she began to cry harder.

“Oh no, hey, you don’t need to do that.” Jack said to her softly. “I’m nice, I promise.”

Medda waved her hand, warning him, “She’s always a fussy one.” She stepped into the kitchen to wish her sons goodbye, then stopped in the entry to make sure Jack hadn’t thought of any last minute questions.

Jack settled the still crying May on his hip, swaying slightly side to side as he assured Medda that everything seemed good to go and he would call her if he needed anything, and she’d be welcome to call at any point, of course, if she wanted to check in.

She smiled warmly. “Thank you, honey. I’ll check in around lunchtime, okay?”

He nodded, not at all bothered by May digging her fingers into the collar of his shirt. “Sounds great.”

With a goodbye to him and May, Medda disappeared out the front door.

Jack took a deep breath, much more nervous—and honestly a bit frightened—than he would ever let on. “Alright kid,” he said, addressing May. “let’s do this thing.” He shrugged. “I mean how bad can it be, right?”

Step one would be reading Medda’s list of instructions, so he made his way into the kitchen, bouncing May in his arms as he went. The boys were sitting at the counter, blearily munching on cereal. Jack offered a smile, clearly not asking either of them to really engage, and pulled the list on the counter over so he could read.

Catalina could sleep as much as she wanted, and May—oh, ‘Mei’, oops—had a nap at noon and again at four thirty.

Chris could go outside or to a friend’s house, as long as he took his phone. His number was listed. Jackson was allowed to go, as long as he was with Chris. On the back of the page was a set of detailed instructions on how to make Catalina’s formula should Jack need to, but there should be plenty for the weekend; he just had to heat it up.

“Hey, Francis,” Jackson interrupted his concentration, “can I go back to sleep?”

Jack half choked on his own breath— _ ‘Francis’. _

“Yeah, gotta get that Saturday morning coma in, ‘else the day is ruined.”

He continued reading down the list. He was welcome to any food in the house and could use the kitchen if he wanted to cook. If he wanted to take the kids out to the zoo or a museum or something, she would reimburse him for whatever money was spent on the outing.

Jack chuckled at the next part. “ _ Despite what Chris may tell you, the PlayStation is not in fact only his. He has to share with Jackson or take turns _ .”

Jackson put his cereal bowl in the dishwasher— _ holy shit there’s a dishwasher _ —and shuffled away, presumably back to bed. Mei had stopped crying and was now squirming to get down. Jack removed the wriggling child from his hip, and gently set her down. She ran giggling towards the living room.

Jack let out a huff of breath, settling himself. Only four kids—this was gonna be fine. He’d dealt with five times as many at half the age he was now. It’d be fine.

He followed the toddler through the den, where the baby was asleep in the corner in one of those little swings, and into the office. She went to a set of small, plastic drawers in the corner and yanked one open. It was full of coloring books, and she was just a hair too short to easily reach in and get them.

She turned to Jack. “Colow!”

He smiled. “A’right, whadda you wanna color?” he asked as he walked over to pull a book out of the drawer.

“Pay-pow,” she said, pointing.

Jack’s smile spread wider. He’d forgotten how much he loved kids. They were like little bubbles of potential and energy.

“Here ya go,” he said, pulling a few sheets of paper out of the drawer to hand to her.

She smiled from ear to ear and reached for the second drawer, which was full—and I mean  _ full _ —of crayons. Jack helped her out by closing the top drawer, and she grabbed a handful of random colors and darted back towards the den, paper in one hand and crayons in the other. Chuckling and grabbing a few extra sheets of paper, Jack followed.

In the Den, Mei flopped down on her stomach on the floor and started coloring, a light blue crayon clutched in her fist. Catalina woke up and startled gurgling happily.

Jack glanced over in her direction a little nervously. He had a lot of experience with kids, but very little with babies—‘very little’ meaning, in this case, none at all.

She blinked at him and smiled a dopey, spitty baby smile.

He snorted, amused, and crossed the room to lift her out of the swing. “Yeah, okay, you’re adorable, I get it.” She was still small enough that he could pretty easily settle her in just one arm. “Y’know,” he continued, picking up the thin blanket that had been on the swing and draping it over his shoulder, “usually  _ I’m _ the cutest one in the room, but I guess I’m beat twice over, huh?” He tilted his head towards Mei, indicating her as the other contestant.

Mei, it appeared, was already quite proficient at drawing stick figures.

From the den, Jack was able to see into the kitchen, and noted that Chris was no longer there. He knew that if he more or less just left the two boys to their own devices, they’d be less opposed to his presence, and a relationship would establish itself over time. Kids weren’t actually that complicated, if you just paid attention and treated them like human beings.

Mei picked up a green crayon and thrust it towards him. “Colow!”

Very mildly startled at the sudden command, Jack walked over to sit cross-legged on the floor next to her. Sitting Catalina up in his lap, he held his hand out, and Mei pushed the crayon into his palm.

“What are we drawing?”

Mei handed him his own piece of paper and continued drawing her stick figures.

He blinked slowly. “A’right.”

Having to angle himself a little awkwardly with Catalina in his lap, Jack began to draw a landscape—not anywhere specific, just grass and trees and whatnot. Catalina watched in that vacant, mesmerized ways that babies do.

Mei finished drawing two stick figures—a tall one and a small one with long hair. She pointed at the tall one. “That you,” she said, then pointed at the small one, “and that me.” She looked so proud.

If anyone had asked in that moment, Jack would’ve sworn that he was dying, because it wasn’t fair. Who authorized this tiny child to be so cute?

“Oh wow, that’s great, Mei!” He pointed to the tall one that had squiggles coming out of its head, which were probably supposed to be hair. “It looks just like me!”

Chris wandered into the room, then. “You mind if I play video games?” he asked, gesturing minutely to the TV.

Jack looked up at him. “Yeah, for sure, go for it.”

Chris turned on a game—some variation of Call of Duty—at low volume and started playing. Mei started on a new drawing. Jack continued his nonsense landscape, finding it a little difficult to draw on loose paper without holding it in place, as Catalina had taken ownership of his free hand.

At some point, he glanced over at Mei’s new drawing and found that she appeared to be trying to copy him.

He pressed his lips into a tight line, holding in a grin. Fucking  _ precious _ .

Jack glanced up towards Chris. “Does she draw a lot?”

“You mean Mei?” Chris asked without turning around or looking away from the screen. “Yeah, it’s sorta her thing, right now.”

Jack nodded. “That’s great.”

Catalina resolutely bit the side of his wrist. She didn’t have teeth yet, so it didn’t hurt, but he was still rather startled. Mei, noticing his distress, attempted to hand her little sister a crayon to chew on instead.

Jack gently extracted his arm from the baby’s clutches and leaned over to grab a floppy, plush rabbit that was laying under the coffee table. Catalina happily grabbed it and started chewing on its ears. Jack returned to his attention to his drawing for approximately thirty seconds before she spit up all over herself, her rabbit, and his arm.

With the slightest cringe, he stood up. “We’ll be right back, Mei. Don’t catch anything on fire while I’m gone.”

She just blinked up at him and watched as he left the den, headed for the bathroom to wash his arm and set the rabbit in the sink to be hand washed once he’d gotten Catalina changed and cleaned up. He wasn’t at all surprised to find that the baby’s wardrobe was more extensive than his had ever been, throughout his entire life, all put together. He dressed her in a soft little shirt and pants that he hoped went together okay and returned to the den.

The next two hours went by pretty quickly. Mei was happily occupied coloring until nap time, and Catalina was content as long as she had something to chew on—which ended up being the collar of Jack’s shirt, because she kept dropping everything else.

Jack was a little relieved when nap time came around, to be honest. The boys were content to play video games, and Catalina had fallen asleep in his arms at some point, so nap time for Mei sounded a lot like break time for Jack. Unfortunately, as Jack found out, nap time was only a break once Mei had fallen asleep. And Mei did not want to fall asleep. Jack had read three different stories, gotten her a drink of water, read another story, and gotten her yet another drink of water. She only settled down to sleep when he had launched on an epic saga of storytelling that he made up as he went along, rather than reading her something.

When she finally drifted off, Jack continued talking for a few moments, letting his voice drift lower and lower until he wasn’t making any noise anymore, then slipped silently out of the room, shutting the door most of the way behind him. Once back downstairs, he glanced into the living room, where Chris and Jackson were happily playing some loud and brightly colored platformer game. After briefly interrupting to ask if they wanted snacks—they didn’t—he wandered aimlessly into the kitchen. He still had Catalina asleep on his shoulder, as every time he’d tried to set her down in her crib, she woke up and started to fuss again, so he accepted his fate as a walking rocking chair.

In Medda’s instructions, she had said she didn’t mind him making personal calls or anything like that, just as long as the kids were prioritized. Seeing as everyone was either asleep or occupied, Jack decided to check in with Davey.

* * *

Davey considered himself independent, not clingy or needy at all. Jack, however, was making him reevaluate many aspects of his self-concept (now there’s a psychological buzz-term from Sarah). After several hours of studying, having completed all his homework for the weekend, he groaned and dropped his head into his textbook.

Spot, whose efforts to study had been drastically slowed down by the arrival and resulting distraction of Race, looked over from his desk towards Davey. “Y’alright?”

Race had been doing everything he possibly could to get into Spot’s pants, seemingly indifferent to the fact that Davey was in the room. He made an indignant noise as Spot’s attention shifted from him to Davey.

Davey waved aimlessly in their direction. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“No c’mon, I’m not doing anything important,” he smirked as Race pouted loudly. “What’s up?”

Davey huffed, sitting up and leaning back in his desk chair. “Jack works weekends now.”

Spot nodded, attempting and failing to keep Race from climbing into his lap now that he had turned away from his desk. “Gotcha, less boyfriend time. Can’t say I know what that’s like.” He looked pointedly at Race, who huffed.

“I’m not’cher boyfriend.”

“And thank god for that.”

The blond squawked in indignance again.

Davey couldn’t help but laugh, despite feeling incredibly uncomfortable with the situation playing out on the other side of the room. Well, maybe ‘uncomfortable’ wasn’t the right word. Sad? Pitiful? Spot clearly knew that he was being used. He also clearly had real feelings for Race, who, of course, was stuck on Albert like superglue. He wouldn’t have let Race wallow all over him if he didn’t. He wasn’t that kind of guy.

Spot sighed, trying to keep his attention on Davey. “Maybe you guys should talk about like, setting aside ‘you time’, or whatever.”

Davey frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You know, date night or something.”

“Oh.” He’d never thought of that before, not that he’d ever been in a real relationship before Jack. “That’s a good idea.”

Spot shrugged—as much as he could with Race koalaed to his chest—“Gotta tackle that shit as a team, make sure the relationship stays a priority and you’re on the same page and all that jazz.”

Race looked at him, clearly surprised by such a legitimate and thoughtful answer.

“What?” Spot all but sneered at him. “I know how to treat a person.”

_ Ouch _ , Davey thought, fixing his gaze back on his book but not reading.

Race huffed. “You don’t seem the type, that’s all.”

“Shows how well you know me,” Spot retorted, but Davey could hear an edge of sorrow in his voice.

He was just about to make up an excuse to flee the building when his phone rang. Looking at the screen, Davey was greeted with an incoming FaceTime call from—well speak of the devil—Jack Kelly. With a little smile, he swiped to answer, and there was Jack.

There was Jack with a sleeping baby resting against his shoulder.

“Hey babe,” he greeted Davey, smiling.

Davey’s brain short-circuited. “Baby,” he said, incredibly stupidly. The baby wasn’t even what had him so transfixed—no, it was Jack  _ with _ the baby, his beautiful boyfriend holding this adorable baby. Holy shit.

Jack’s mouth twisted up in that awful, wonderful little smirk of his. “You talkin’ to me, or to Catalina?”

Davey basically squealed. “Ohmygod, she’s so  _ cute _ .”

Jack giggled, twisting his head back a little bit and angling the phone so Davey could see Catalina’s face, as she was snuggled tightly against Jack’s shoulder.

“She’s about six months old, and she thinks my hand is delicious.”

Race burst into laughter, startling Davey—he had been so caught up in Jack holding a baby that he sort of forgot he wasn’t alone. Jack’s eyebrows went up. “That Race?”

“Yeah, Race and Spot are here.” Davey gestured towards them disinterestedly. “That is such a cute baby, I’m going to cry. What did you say her name was?”

Jack chuckled. “Don’t cry, there’s been enough of that already and it’s barely past noon.” He shifted the baby a little bit, indicating the subject of his sentence. “This one’s Catalina.”

“That’s beautiful.”

Davey didn’t notice Race coming up behind him until he appeared on the screen, and Davey jumped half a mile.

“Jack, where did you get that?” Race asked.

Jack laughed. “Found her behind a Denny’s. Did I forget to tell you guys I’m Mary Poppins now?”

“You’re what?” Spot asked, appearing beside Race in the frame.

“I’m Mary Poppins.” Jack repeated, readjusting the baby as she wiggled slightly in her sleep. “I got fired, so I picked up part-time nannying.”

Race’s jaw dropped. “Who the hell hired you as a nanny?”

“Shut up, I’m very lovable.” Jack pouted. “There’s this lady who owns and runs a theatre, so she isn’t home weekends.”

“No husband?”

“Goodness no, I’m much too young to be married.”

Spot snickered, and Race shot him a venomous glare.

Davey just rolled his eyes. “How are the other kids?”

“Mei’s I think two? She draws, and she drew a picture of her and me and I nearly died.” He grinned. “You should know; I make a very handsome blue stick figure.”

“You’d make a very handsome anything,” Davey huffed. “It’s not fair.”

Jack tossed him an over-the-top wink. “Thanks, babe. You’re not too hard to look at yourself.”

Race lost interest, and was attempting to divert Spot from his current path back to his desk, towards the bed instead. They were stuck in a bit of a stalemate, since Spot was a lot stronger than Race, so he couldn’t really be pushed or dragged, and Race kept getting in Spot’s way so he couldn’t make any progress.

“So how’s your day going?” Jack asked as Catalina —still fast asleep—reached up and got a pretty solid grip on the collar of his shirt.

Davey smiled wanly. “I miss you.”

Jack mirrored his expression, and his voice got that special sort of soft that it only did when he was talking to Davey. “I miss you, too. I’m sorry I gotta work weekends now.”

“Hey, you do what you have to. We’ll make it work.”

“Tell ya what, how ‘bout we do something tomorrow? Medda’s home late on Saturdays, but Sundays she’s back by about eight. I could make a late dinner—” He cringed. “Actually that’s a terrible idea, I can’t cook.”

“We can do  _ something _ ,” Davey agreed. “Maybe  _ I  _ can cook, or we can just watch a movie or...”

Jack smiled again. “Yeah, something.”

Davey wished he could be there, with Jack. He wished Jack’s life was easier. He wished Jack hadn’t gotten fired. He wished...well, he wished a lot of things. “I love you,” he said, instead of expressing the torrent of thoughts cycling through his head.

“I love you too, Dave. More than anything.”

He said it so casually, as if it were a plain and obvious fact—The sky was blue, water was wet—though honestly that one’s debatable—and Jack Kelly loved him more than anything. It almost hurt, like a punch to the chest, and Davey couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around it, but he didn’t care. He was finding he cared about very little, as long as he had Jack.

“What about the two boys?” he asked, desperate just to keep the conversation going, to keep Jack for a few minutes longer.

Jack snickered. “Well, the nine-year-old is named Jack.”

“No way.”

Jack nodded. “Yup, and he doesn’t really like me so far. Chris seems okay with me, though.” A light clicked on behind Jack’s eyes as he perked up a bit. “Did I tell you they’re all adopted?”

“Wait, what?” Davey sat up a little straighter in his chair, intrigued by this new information. Sure, it didn’t mean anything to him, but to  _ Jack _ …

He nodded again, beaming. “Yeah, Medda was fostering for awhile, and she adopted everyone she got. Pretty sure she only stopped ‘cause she ran out of bedrooms.”

Davey smiled. “That’s amazing Jack.”

“Right?” Jack was clearly beyond thrilled, and it was absolutely adorable. “And you should see the house,” he continued. “It’s gorgeous. I’ve never been in a prettier building, except for that cathedral Crutchie an’ me lived in for two weeks.”

The thought struck Davey, unbidden, that this—what Jack was describing—was what he wanted with Jack. He wanted a house and children and all these things to which he’d never given much thought before. He pushed those thoughts aside. It was way too early for that, no matter how much he loved Jack. “Sounds like a great job, Jacky.”

“I’m hoping.” Jack’s smile became a touch strained. “It’s been great so far, but it’s only been four hours.”

“I hope so, too,” Davey said, and he meant it. Jack needed a victory.

Jack glanced off to his left, presumably towards a clock. “I should probably go...”

“Right.” Davey nodded and hoped his disappointment didn’t show on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“If you’re lucky.” Jack winked, and the video feed cut off.

* * *

At eleven-forty-five that night, Jack fumbled briefly with his keys before unlocking the apartment door and stepping inside. With a tired exhale, he locked it behind him, dropped his keys in the shallow bowl on the ledge of the half-wall that separated the kitchen, and crossed to the bedroom, opening the door quietly in case Crutchie was asleep.

He wasn’t. He was awake, reading a book, which he set down when Jack walked in. “How’d it go?”

Jack exhaled roughly. “I’d forgotten how exhausting children are.”

“Little monsters, all of them,” Crutchie chuckled.

Jack headed for the dresser, unbuttoning the now rather wrinkled, light blue button-up and shrugging it off his shoulders to drop in the laundry hamper. “Don’t get me wrong, they’re great kids,” he said as he began digging through the dresser for pajama pants. “Most of them like me already, so it’s gonna be fine.”

“Most of them?

Jack snickered. “Mini-Jack isn’t a fan.”

Crutchie raised an eyebrow. “Mini-Jack?”

“The nine year old is also ‘Jack’.”

“Ah.” Crutchie chuckled. “That must be confusing.”

Jack smiled a cringey smile. “No, the kid wasn’t a fan of sharing the name, so we decided we’d call me something different...”

Crutchie’s eyes widened, and he grinned like a kid who’d just found out they were going to Disneyland. “Is it Francis?”

Jack scowled, suddenly much more focused on the contents of his dresser. “Shut up.”

Crutchie giggled hysterically. “Francis.”

“Shut up!” Jack threw a pair of socks at him.

“Rude.”

“Yes, you are.” Jack found his pajamas, and changed before crawling into his bed and flopping face down on the pillow.

“You like it, though?” Crutchie asked, suddenly sincere again. “Working with the kids?”

Jack turned his head so he was no longer smothering himself and looked at Crutchie. “Yeah, they’re great. It’s nice taking care of someone, since you’re all grown up and won’t let me anymore.” He stuck his tongue out.

Crutchie stuck his tongue out back.

“Nah, it’s good.” Jack wriggled a bit, getting comfortable. “I’m beat, though. Two-year-olds are exhausting.” He yawned. “She thinks I’m some sort of personal jungle gym.”

“Cute,” Crutchie said.

Jack grunted in affirmation, already half asleep. He reached out to blindly paw at his bedside table, searching for his phone. Once he found it, he blearily typed a ‘goodnight’ to Davey, hit send and dropped his phone onto the pillow next to him. As he drifted further and further from consciousness, Jack silently weighed possibilities for Sunday evening, and he was asleep within minutes.


	41. A Disgustingly Pleasant Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just...a disgustingly pleasant evening, what can I say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am getting caught up on editing, so again, expect chapters fast. I may update again tonight, and I'll definitely update tomorrow, so take care in the next couple days to make sure you're on the right chapter, because there may be multiple new ones!

With finals rapidly approaching, Davey’s freshman entourage was desperate for a study session—with Davey, specifically. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he was smart, after all, and growing up with a little brother, he was pretty good at tutoring. He cautiously agreed to meet them at the library on Sunday. Nervous as he was, he wanted to see them, and it’s not like he had anything else to do. 

At about two-fifteen, he received a text from Romeo announcing that they’d claimed one of the study rooms on the third floor, and he made his way to the library. He dragged his feet a little on the way up the stairs. There were a couple other people on the floor, studying here and there, but it was very easy to find the right room, as it was significantly louder than the rest of the floor. Tommy Boy, Romeo, and Elmer were all inside, and there was a pile of books on the table, but they were all crowded together, looking at Romeo’s phone and chattering loudly.

Davey smiled. He’d missed this energy. “Hey, guys.”

They all looked up, having not noticed or heard him arriving over their hubbub of nonsense.

“Oh shit, he lives!” Romeo said, grinning. “I thought Elmer was full of it.”

Davey chuckled awkwardly. “No, he speaks the truth.”

“It’s good to see you, man,” Tommy Boy interjected. “We’ve been worried about you.”

Davey sighed, smiling just a little. “Thanks. It’s good to see you all, too.”

“Where’ve you been?” Tommy Boy continued.

“Yeah, what happened?” Romeo asked.

“I, um...” Davey looked at the floor, feeling hot and cold and numb. They deserved an answer, and an honest one at that. “Long story?” he offered lamely.

They all clearly knew something was up, but Elmer at least had the sense to realize Davey wasn’t comfortable sharing. He waved his hand, brushing away the beginnings of questions from the other two. “We can talk about it some other time. Right now, you gotta rescue me from failing English Comp.”

Davey tried to communicate with a look just how thankful he was for the diversion and slipped into the much more comfortable topic of schoolwork. That, he could do. That was safe.

Elmer had absolutely no idea what was going on, but he smiled anyway. “Alright, smart boy, make me smart.”

They studied for a while, or at least got as close to studying as the combination of Elmer, Romeo, and Tommy Boy would allow. They really weren’t having that much trouble, and it made Davey feel a little sentimental that they had clearly been so insistent that he come not because they needed his help, but because they wanted him there.

The topic of discussion quickly shifted away from schoolwork and back to what they had been discussing before Davey’s arrival—a girl.

Romeo had fallen, and fallen hard, for his project partner in biology.

“What’s her name?” Davey asked. “What’s she like?”

“Her name’s Julia, and she’s  _ amazing _ .” Romeo launched into a surprisingly poetic description of a girl he hardly knew anything about.

Elmer and Tommy Boy, having heard this all before, rolled their eyes and began their own hushed conversation on the side. Davey listened intently to Romeo in an attempt to be supportive. It’s not like he had a leg to stand on, when it came to falling hard for people one barely knew.

When Romeo started to wax poetic about this girl’s eyes for the third time, Tommy Boy heavily rolled his eyes and interrupted. “Dave, how’s stuff with Jack?”

Davey blinked a couple times, caught off-guard by the sudden change in topic. “Jack’s great.”

Tommy Boy pshawed, not content with this answer. “That’s it? C’mon give us something before Romeo start up again.”

Romeo pouted, and Elmer chuckled at him.

“What do you want to know?” Davey asked, blushing as usual when Jack came up in conversation.

“Well, how’s it going? You guys have been a thing for, like, what? Four months now?” Elmer asked.

“Yeah, it’s like a real thing now,” Tommy Boy agreed.

“Two months,” Davey corrected—holy shit had it really only been two months? “Two and a half, maybe.”

Elmer frowned. “That doesn’t sound right...”

Romeo held up a hand. “Well, are we counting from when Jack came and hit on you in the dining hall as the starting point, or whenever you actually became official?”

“I met him in mid-February. It’s mid-April, now,” Davey said.

Elmer waved his hand dismissively. “Time isn’t real.”

Davey laughed. “So yeah, it’s been two months. I’d still like to think we’re a ‘real thing’, now.”

Romeo shook his head. “Nah, anything under four months can still just be a crush, or infatuation. If it’s over four months, it’s real.”

“The other way to tell, is if he gets a haircut, and he’s still cute,” Tommy Boy added.

“Have you seen my boyfriend?” Davey huffed. “He could shave his whole head and be cute.”

The freshmen all burst into laughter.

“I’ll pay you fifty dollars if you put Nair in his shampoo,” Tommy Boy teased.

Davey rolled his eyes as the other boys launched into a debate concerning the best way to make someone bald without their realizing, and a minute or so later Davey’s phone buzzed. He discreetly removed it from his pocket and checked it.

The notification banner showed a new text from Jack. “ _ Hey babe, just stole… _ ”

Oh dear. Davey opened the message.

“ _ Hey babe, just stole a free second and thought I’d check in. How’s your day going? _ ”

Oh. Oh, that is  _ so _ sweet. Davey grinned like a doofus. “ _ It’s going well. I actually left the room. How’s yours?” _

_ “Oh shit, nice! There’s been less crying today, so far, but Mei’s been hanging onto my leg like a very small and loud koala for the past twenty minutes, so I guess I’m in for a different sort of hectic today. What are you doing on your grand expedition?” _

_ “‘Studying’ with the entourage. And by studying, I mean gossiping.” _

_ “Oh yeah? What’s the latest news?” _

_ “Romeo met a girl. Also, you and I aren’t a ‘real thing’ yet, because we haven’t been together four months.” _

It took about a minute for the next message to come through. _ “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” _

_ “Hell if I know. Ask Romeo.” _

Davey could almost hear Jack muttering agitated nonsense through the lack of an immediate reply. He went ahead and messaged him again. “ _ Don’t worry about him. He’s an idiot. _ ”

A minute later, another text came in. “ _ Apparently it’s a thing. ‘Psychologists say a crush only lasts for 4 months. But when feelings last longer, you are considered to be “In Love _ ”’.” Another message. “ _ Sounds like some bullshit” _

_ “I’ll ask Sarah, next time we talk.” _

_ “Sure” _

A picture followed almost immediately. It was Catalina, who was holding onto Jack’s fingers with both hands, and clearly trying to put his hand in her mouth. “ _ Help _ ”

Davey laughed, which got the attention of the freshmen.

“What’re you laughing at?” Tommy Boy asked, grinning like a hyena.

“Is it Jack?” Romeo cooed.

Davey groaned. “It’s Jack and a  _ baby _ .”

Elmer gasped, practically scrambling over the table. “I wanna see!” He snatched Davey’s phone out of his hand and turned it towards him. “Ohmygod, guys, look at this.”

There was general ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’ing over the picture.

“Got that maternal clock ticking, huh, Dave?” Tommy Boy teased.

“Oh, shut up.” Davey snatched his phone back, smiling and blushing all the while.

“You two would have  _ such _ cute kids,” Elmer said dreamily, and Tommy Boy bopped the back of his head with a notebook. “That’s not how that works, dumbass.”

Davey shook his head. He took another few seconds to admire the beautiful thing that was Jack Kelly with a baby before replying, “ _ I’m afraid I can’t. She’s too powerful _ .”

He waited a few minutes, but no reply came. He assumed Jack had gone to attend to the children, and that was okay. He would get to spend time with Jack, later.

* * *

After another hour or so with the freshmen, Davey returned to his dorm. He was surprised and relieved that he’d somehow gotten through without any of them trying to touch him. When he got back to the dorm, Spot was nowhere to be found, so Davey had some time to himself. He ended up reading, as Daveys tend to do.

At about seven-fifteen, another message from Jack came in announcing that, with Medda coming home at eight and him walking to the bus stop, he’d probably be home around nine-thirty. Davey knew that was awfully late, especially considering that he had class in the morning, but he didn’t care.

Nine-thirty came and went with no word from Jack. Davey didn’t like that at all. It wasn’t like Jack, but Davey hesitated to message him. That seemed a little clingy.

Finally, at nine-forty-seven, his phone buzzed, and he jumped to answer it immediately.

The line clicked on. “Davey?” Jack was breathing a little heavily, as if he’d just been running.

“Hey, Jack. Are you alright? You sound a little—”

He exhaled roughly. “Yeah, I’m fine, sorry.” He took a breath. “Sorry, things didn’t go quite to plan, but it’s all good now.” He hesitated, sounding almost nervous when he spoke again. “Do you...still want to come over?”

“Is...that okay?” Something was definitely up.

Jack exhaled shortly, sounding relieved. “Yes, of course, yes.”

Davey nodded skeptically, despite Jack not being able to see him. “Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

“Alright, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

When Davey arrived at the apartment and knocked on the door, he was surprised to find Crutchie on the other side, rather than Jack.

“Hey, Dave,” Crutchie greeted him, smiling a suspiciously twinkly smile.

Davey narrowed his eyes, growing more suspicious by the second. “Hi, Crutchie...”

“Looking for Jack?”

“Um, yeah, did he—” Davey shifted his weight nervously. “Did he not tell you I was coming?”

“Oh, no, he did,” Crutchie assured him, smiling like a very smug little shark. “He’s up on the roof.”

“Oh.” Davey blinked, entirely thrown off and entirely unsure what to even say. “Okay. I’ll just...” He gestured over his shoulder before turning away and heading towards the stairs. He could hear Crutchie giggling as he shut the door.

It was, of course, very easy to get to the roof; you just had to go all the way up the stairs, and you’d run right into the access door that was almost never locked. When he opened the door and stepped out onto the roof, there was nothing there. Nothing out of the ordinary, and no Jack. Perplexed, Davey turned to move around the little shed-type structure that enclosed the stairs, and stopped short at the scene before him.

There was a picnic blanket—it looked more like a tablecloth, actually, but Davey wasn’t about to complain—with a pile of pillows and fuzzy blankets on top in one corner, and a little cooler sitting on the opposite side, along with a little battery powered radio quietly playing and a spattering of tea candles around the whole thing. In the middle of it all, a very sheepish looking Jack.

_ Holy shit _ . “Hi,” said Davey, like an idiot.

“Hi, Davey,” Jack replied, visibly relaxing once Davey spoke.

“What’s all this?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, I was kinda bothered about your friend saying we aren’t a real thing, and we haven’t really had much time just us lately, and I wanted to make up for being gone weekends, now.” He was listing pretty heavily towards babbling. “Is this weird? I thought it was a good idea but now I feel like it’s weird. I’m sorry, this wasn’t—”

Davey cut him off. “It’s wonderful, Jack.”

Jack bit his lip, but a little smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth. “You think?”

Davey smiled. “Yes. I love it. Thank you.”

God, he wanted to kiss him. He almost did it, almost crossed the roof and kissed his fucking wonderful, thoughtful, perfect boyfriend. He worried, though; what if he wasn’t ready? What if he reacted the way he did when Elmer touched him? What if he ruined everything? So he did cross the roof, but he stayed a couple feet away from Jack. “Thank you.”

Davey could see, just by the way he tensed up, how badly Jack wanted to touch him, but he simply shoved his hands into the pockets of the light gray, zip-up hoodie he was wearing and smiled. “Of course, anything for you.” He took a beat just looking at Davey, softly smiling before he continued. “Don’t be fooled though, I don’t have anything fancy.” He gestured towards the cooler. “We’re talking Ritz crackers and Babybel.”

“It’s perfect,” Davey insisted. He shook his head. “God, I can’t believe you’re real, sometimes.”

Jack laughed. “Why, ‘cause I put in a base amount of effort?”

“This,” Davey gestured to the nest of pillows and candles, “is not a base amount of effort.”

Jack screwed up his face a bit, shaking his head. “Nah, any dumbass can drag some pillows up a flight of stairs.” Without giving Davey a chance to retort, Jack moved to sit down on the blanket by the cooler. “You hungry?”

Davey sat down next to him. “God, yes, I’ve been craving Ritz crackers and Babybel cheese all day.”

Jack laughed, starting to unpack the cooler. “You’re such a liar.” Along with the promised cheese and crackers, Jack also produced a little plate of veggies and dip, a couple mini Pepsi cans, and a bag of peanut M&Ms. He shook a baby carrot at Davey, scolding, “I knew I was gonna be a bad influence on you.”

“The worst,” Davey agreed.

Jack snickered, flicking the carrot at him, and Davey picked it up and threw it right back. It bounced off Jack’s temple, as he had turned back to the cooler, and he let out a surprised squawk of indignation. “After everything I’ve done, this is the thanks I get? I bring you carrots and you just  _ throw _ them?”

“Yes.”

He rolled his eyes good naturedly, and, like so many times before, drifted a little in Davey’s direction and then back again. Again, Davey felt the sudden, impulsive urge to touch him, kiss him, hold his hand, something,  _ anything _ . He needed Jack to know how much he loved him, and to do that, he needed to speak Jack’s language. That didn’t change the fact that he was scared, and he was angry that he was scared, but there was nothing he could do. There had never been anything he could do. “I love you, Jacky,” he said on an exhale, desperate for him to  _ get it _ , to get all the words he couldn’t say.

Jack looked up at him, and there was that tiny, gentle smile that only ever came out for Davey. “I love you too, Dave.”

That smile could melt the sun and stop stars, Davey was sure of it. He also knew he couldn’t dwell on it too much, or he would probably die, so he changed the subject. “How was your day?”

Jack shrugged, flipping the lid of the cooler closed again, now that everything was unpacked. “Wasn’t bad. Jack still doesn’t like me, but no nine-year-old likes change.”

Davey nodded. “I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“Most folks do,” Jack teased, throwing him a wink and then a Babybel cheese.

Davey caught it, fumbled it, then caught it again.

Jack snickered. “Smooth.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“I would never.”

It turned out to be an almost disgustingly pleasant evening, just being together, talking, teasing. Davey was happy. He hoped Jack was just as happy to be with him as he was to be with Jack.

* * *

It was well past eleven, and Jack and Davey had repacked the cooler with what food was left and pushed it off to the side. There was a moment of hesitation as they tried to figure out how to sit together in the pile of pillows without actually  _ sitting together _ . Jack had the idea to pull the whole pile right into the middle of the blanket, and each of them took a side, leaning back against the pillows so that their faces were side by side, but there was still plenty of distance.

“If you won the lottery,” Davey asked sleepily, crunching on a Ritz cracker and looking at the sky, “what would you do?”

“Take Crutchie to a proper doctor, and see if there’s anything we can do about his leg,” Jack answered without hesitation.

“And then what?”

“Uh...I dunno, probably get a nicer apartment?” Jack had always been so worried about ‘enough’ that he’d never really thought too hard about what he’d do with excess.

Davey nodded solemnly as he seemed to catch on to this fact. “If you could keep any kind of animal as a pet, what would it be?”

“No no no, hang on. What would  _ you _ do if you won the lottery?”

“Pay off Sarah’s student loans, pay for Les to go to college, save enough to take care of my parents when they’re older...then, I don’t know. I’d donate a lot of it, I think.”

Jack nodded. “Alright, my turn. What do you think my name should be, if it wasn’t ‘Jack’? And you can’t say Francis, or I’ll jump off the roof.”

Davey laughed, “Francis?”

Jack froze, realizing he had made a fatal error; Davey didn’t know his middle name. Well, too late now. “Uh...yeah. It’s a super shitty name, not at all mine in any way.”

Davey narrowed his eyes. “Jack?”

Whining, Jack rolled over onto his stomach so his face was lost in the pillows and blankets.

“Is your middle name Francis?” Davey asked. Jack could hear the grin in his voice.

Rather than answering, Jack began to burrow his way under the pile.

Davey laughed. “Jack Francis Kelly is a good name!”

“‘Jacob’, actually,” he grumbled from beneath a pillow.

“Even better,” Davey sighed sleepily. “You never answered my question about pets.”

Jack rolled onto his back again, but remained more in the pile than on it. “I wanna know your middle name, first.”

“Ari.”

“Does it mean anything? Y’know, like how ‘Francis’ means ‘insufferable asshat’?”

“Means ‘lion’ in Hebrew. An’ David means ‘beloved’, so I’m, like, a beloved lion or somethin’.”

“A- _ dor- _ able.”

“Shuddup.”

Jack sat up so he could look at Davey. “Never. You are adorable, and amazing, and you’re gonna hear it, goddammit.”

Rather than laying back down on the pile, Jack turned and shifted a little bit away from Davey, knowing that, if he didn’t take precautions, something was gonna snap, and he’d touch him.

Davey’s eyes fluttered closed. He looked terribly comfortable for someone who was laying on a hard rooftop. “Your name would be Jamie, by the way.”

For a moment, Jack forgot to answer, caught—as he so frequently was—just looking at Davey, marveling at how any person could be so beautiful and so smart and so kind, especially after the horrible things life had thrown his way.

“I wanna know what pet you’d want,” Davey mumbled.

“Can it be something normal, or does it gotta be weird?” Jack asked softly, twisting his hands up in the hem of his shirt to keep them from wandering

“Anything you want.”

“Realistically, snakes are cool, but it’d be real fun to have a crocodile.”

Davey hummed quietly.

Jack stayed quiet for a minute before he spoke again, and when he did, his voice was very soft. “Hey, Dave?” Davey didn’t say anything, and a small smile crept onto Jack’s face. “Baby?” Nothing.

Jack exhaled softly, almost entirely content. It was a warm enough night, as they were nearing the end of April, and with all the blankets and pillows, there was a reasonable amount of cushion between them and the hard surface of the roof. Jack got up as quietly as he could and walked carefully around to Davey’s side of the pile. He pulled a plushy blanket off the pile and spent a minute or so struggling to tuck it around Davey without actually touching him.

Once satisfied with his work, he returned to his own side, and lay down again with a quiet sigh. Things weren’t quite back to how they should be, but they were getting there.


	42. Spot Is a Short, Scary, Angry Little Fountain of Blunt Wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot and Davey bond over gross dining hall food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the later update. It's still December 7th where I live, so I didn't lie about posting today. :P

Davey was only slightly embarrassed about falling asleep mid-conversation on Jack’s roof. He was tired, and the weather was perfect, and Jack was great at building pillow nests, okay? He didn’t even panic when he woke up in an unfamiliar place...much, anyway. He had a text from Spot from the night before that read, “ _ I’m gonna assume you’re spending the night at Jack’s and not worry about you until tomorrow _ ,” which was honestly kind of heartwarming. That seemed about as close to genuine care and concern as Spot could manage. Jack was cute when he was sleepy. Davey’s first class got cancelled. It was an overall not-bad morning.

He didn’t see Spot until that night, when he was sitting in his room reading, contemplating dinner. Just as he was getting ready to close his book and head towards the dining hall, the door buzzed, and then slammed open with such force it bounced off the wall and nearly swung shut again, only stopped when it hit Spot, who was coming through the doorway with a scowl fit to curdle milk.

Davey blinked a couple times. “Are—”  _ Don’t ask if he’s okay; that’s stupid _ . “Um, hi?”

“Hi,” Spot all but snarled, stalking over to his bed and sitting down heavily.

“Whaaat’s going on?” Davey asked hesitantly.

“Race is an idiot.”

“Oh.” Davey blinked a couple more times. “Right, yeah, you’re right.”

“He’s got no consistency,” Spot said. “He’s all over me, whining if I do anything other than pay attention to him, and then he won’t even talk to me for two days? What the fuck is that!? What am I supposed to  _ do _ with that!?” He tossed his hands up in irritated bafflement. “There’s no way to gauge it! And if I guess wrong, he’s such a  _ bitch _ about it.”

Davey cringed sympathetically. “That sucks, Spot.”

“It’s  _ stupid _ ,” Spot hissed, glaring at nothing. After fuming in silence for a moment, Spot glanced up at Davey. “Am I an idiot for putting up with this?”

Davey sucked it a breath through his teeth. “Do you want me to be polite or honest?”

“Guess that’s an answer by itself, huh?” Spot huffed.

Davey winced. “Sorry...”

“Nah, ‘s my own fault,” Spot sighed heavily, raking his fingers through his hair and looking at the wall like it just told him he owed it money.

“Anything I can do to help?” Davey offered lamely.

“I dunno, could you lend Race some spare brain cells? God knows you got enough.”

“Oh, whatever.” Davey rolled his eyes. “You hungry? I was just about to head to the dining hall, myself.”

Spot shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

* * *

Once Davey and Spot acquired food and seated themselves at the dining hall, Davey asked what he knew was a loaded question and perhaps over the line, but his curiosity got the best of him. “What do you see in Race?”

Spot shrugged, stabbing at the green beans on his plate with his fork. “He’s pretty.”

Davey barely held back a snicker. “Yes, I suppose he does have that going for him.”

“And not much else,” Spot chuckled.

Davey remained quiet for a moment, partially because he knew that the best way to keep someone talking was to remain silent—people hate silence—and partially because he didn’t really know what to say.

After a moment, Spot sighed. “I dunno, he’s an asshole, but he can be nice, sometimes.” He huffed briefly. “Usually when he wants something.”

“But every time he  _ is _ nice, he gets you all over again,” Davey sighed, nodding in understanding.

Spot wrinkled his nose in displeasure. “Like a goddamn pitcher plant.” He frowned. “Er, wait, no. What’s the one that has real sweet gunk that’s all sticky and gets the bugs stuck?”

“You mean a Venus flytrap?”

“I thought that one was just sticky...”

“Sundew, maybe?”

Spot shrugged and spoke around a mouthful of green beans, “I dunno, they’re all freaky as hell.”

Davey nodded in agreement, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. It seemed the dining hall was going for a ‘home cooking’ feel, that day.

“These are miserable,” Spot grumbled, poking at the remaining beans on his plate. “They should just put real food in the market and let us cook for ourselves.”

Davey quirked an eyebrow. “In the splendid dorm kitchens?”

Spot snorted. “Nah, you right; shit would catch fire daily.” After another disdainful look at t he green beans, Spot glanced up at Davey. “So how was date night?”

Goddamn it, wasn’t Davey allowed to get through one conversation without blushing? “It was...really good.”

Spot grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“He made us a fucking picnic on the roof,” Davey whined. “How sweet is that? He’s going to kill me.”

Spot laughed shortly. “Man, you got saddled with one romantic motherfucker, didn’t you?”

Davey smiled. “I got lucky.”

“You guys make a good couple.”

His smile widened, and he looked down. At the very least, he could hide how stupidly in love he was from the rest of the dining hall.

Spot snickered. “It’s real cute how you both get all mushy and dumb.”

“Oh, shut up.” Davey covered his face with his hands and peeked at Spot through this fingers. “So I love him. “What of it?”

He shrugged. “It’s nice.”

“I met him here, you know.” Davey dropped his hands, smiling even more at the memory. “I gave him my number on a napkin.”

Spot looked at him, amused and surprised. “You gave a random guy in the dining hall your number?”

Davey held up his hands as if to surrender.

“Huh.” Spot was definitely judging him. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you did.”

And he was smiling again. “I’m very glad I did.” Davey cleared his throat and looked away in thought. “Jack’s...he’s different than any other guy I’ve ever been with—not that I’ve been with a lot of guys, but I’ve been with a few. I didn’t exactly have high standards, before I met Jack.” He chuckled. “He has definitely raised the bar.”

Spot was suddenly very interested in his plate again. “What, uh...what made you realize you were in love with him?”

Davey thought back on everything that had happened since he met Jack. It felt like ages ago, but it was only a matter of weeks. A lot had happened, in that time. “I don’t know when I fell in love with him,” Davey told Spot. “There wasn’t some grand moment that changed everything.” He looked down at his hands in his lap. “I guess I just realized at some point that my life is better with him in it, that  _ I _ am better when he’s with me.” He paused. “I’d do anything for him. I just...I want him to be happy.”

Spot was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. Then, “I wouldn’t say I know Jack super well. He’s a friend, for sure, but we aren’t that close. He’s definitely better with you than without you.”

That meant more to Davey than he expected. There was still a part of him that wondered if he was good for Jack. Part of him was still convinced that Jack would be better off without him.

“To be fair,” Spot pointed his fork at Davey, “he’s also a lot more annoying with you.”

Davey laughed at the unexpected statement, “What do you mean?”

Spot huffed, rolling his eyes. “He’s all mushy and dumb, and he texts me a  _ lot _ more now, so there’s more exposure.”

Wait, what? Davey knit his eyebrows. “What does him texting you more have to do with me?”

“You’re my roommate.”

“What—do you gossip about me?” he joked. “Trade embarrassing stories?”

Spot screwed up his face momentarily in lieu of a shrug, leaning back in his seat. “Nah, he’ll just check in sometimes. Ask if you got home okay, or shit like that.”

“Oh, yes, very annoying.” Davey snickered. “He  _ could _ just ask me that, if it’s actually a bother.”

“Y’know you’d think, but apparently not!” Spot laughed.

Davey sighed as a little bit of guilt crept in around the edges of his good mood. “He doesn’t...” He fidgeted with his fork on the table. “He doesn’t trust me anymore.”

Spot frowned. “Whaddayou mean?”

“I pulled some shit, while I was staying with him,” Davey confessed, not really wanting to go into detail.

Still frowning, Spot sat forward in his chair again, but didn’t say anything.

Damn it—silence. Davey resisted for as long as he could, which was, unfortunately, not long. “I didn’t exactly want to be...” He cringed. “Want to  _ be _ .”

Spot blinked. “You’re gonna have to run that past me again, Dave.”

Davey sighed heavily and sat as far back in his chair as he could, away from Spot. “When Jack was taking care of me, I was in a really bad place, okay?”

Spot nodded. “Right.” There was a short pause. “I guess you scared him, huh?”

“Yeah,” Davey concluded quietly.

Spot nodded again, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t think he doesn’t trust you.”

“What do you think, then?”

“I think you scared him, Dave. I think he’s worried, n’ he probably wants you to think he’s all fine and strong and all that shit.” A short chuckle. “Guess I just ruined that. Oops.”

Davey smiled wanly. “It’s still him not trusting me, though, just in a different way. Either he doesn’t trust me with what he’s feeling, or he doesn’t trust me with myself.”

“Think if it were the other way ‘round, though. If all that had happened to him, on your watch. You wouldn’t feel right falling apart an’ him comforting you, after everything.”

Davey opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Spot was right. If Jack had been...Davey fought off a wave of nausea as his brain tried to define what had happened, and he refused. If the roles were reversed, though, he’d want to be strong for Jack.

“But I’m not nearly as strong as Jack.”

Spot shrugged. “Different kinda strength comes out, when it’s for someone else.”

He was right about that, too.

Spot’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out to glance at the screen. He rolled his eyes heavily, and pushed it back into his pocket with a quiet huff.

Davey’s eyebrows shot up. “Everything okay?”

“Race is bored,” Spot replied almost disdainfully.

Davey frowned and looked away. Whatever it was exactly that was going on between Spot and Race was painful to watch.

Spot glared daggers at his food for a moment, then looked up at Davey. “You wanna go back to the dorm and order pizza instead?”

“Please.”


	43. Davey Wears Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey runs out of contacts and Jack thinks he's very cute in glasses.

On Thursday, when all but one of Davey’s classes were cancelled, Davey was awoken not by his alarm, but by an email notification. He groaned, rolled out of bed, and headed to the bathroom to get a fresh pair of contacts. It’s not that he couldn’t read without them, but that would entail having the bright light of his phone screen very close to his face, and that didn’t sound fun. With his eyes still mostly closed, he rummaged around his drawer. With a huff, when he couldn’t find a packet by touch, he opened his eyes.

“Damn it,” he sighed. He had gone and run out of contacts. He closed his drawer quietly and trudged back into his room, where he kept his glasses in the desk drawer.

Once he could see, he checked his email. Oh, his other class was cancelled. Awesome. That gave him...nothing to do all day.

He texted Jack, who he knew had Thursday mornings free since he lost his diner job, “ _ All my classes are cancelled today. Want to hang out? _ ”

A reply came almost immediately. “ _ Hell yeah! _ ”

Davey grinned. His own boyfriend wanting to spend time with him shouldn’t make him so excited at this point. “ _ I’ll be there in a few minutes. We can go somewhere _ .”

“ _ Shit I gotta put clothes on _ ”

* * *

Jack pulled on a pair of jeans, dug a gray T-shirt out of the dresser, and got dressed. He grabbed a hoodie on his way out as well, considering it was still April, and headed downstairs to meet Davey. He found him right outside, leaning against the front of the building, wearing that cute blue checkered shirt and...glasses?

Davey smiled. “Hi, Jack.”

Jack smiled quizzically, knitting his eyebrows in amused confusion. “What’s on your face?”

“Is there—?” Davey scrubbed blindly at his cheek.

“Wh— No, your face,” Jack laughed lightly, stopping just short of reaching out and tapping the tip of his nose.

“What about my—” Davey eyes widened in horror. “Oh god, glasses.”

Jack laughed, delighted. “How did I not know you wear glasses?”

“I don’t; I wear contacts.” Davey cringed. “I ran out.”

“You can run out of those?”

Davey forced himself to laugh. “Yeah. I know the glasses are kind of ridiculous.”

“No way, you’re adorable.” Jack grinned.

Davey rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It’s a nice day. Do you want to go to the park or something?”

“Whatever you want, babe,” Jack replied happily, pressing his hands deep into his pockets to ensure he couldn’t reach out to put an arm around Davey.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Reminding himself not to grab his hand, Jack dropped into step beside Davey and they headed for the park. It was a nice day, cool without being cold, and the sky was a sharp sort of blue. Davey launched into a tangent about some book he was reading for class—something he’d read before and liked and was excited to read again.

Jack smiled softly, always content to just listen to Davey talk. He loved hearing the things he cared about, the things he thought were interesting, anything that brought more understanding between them.

“And it doesn’t have an ending,” Davey explained, “but there are all these theories.”

“How does a book not have an ending?” Jack asked with mild incredulity.

“The author has a stroke and dies.”

He nodded, shrugging. “Yeah okay, fair enough.”

“It was turned into a musical in the eighties with, like, a hundred possible combinations of endings. Sarah’s school put it on, last fall. She went, said it was kinda racist.” Davey looked to Jack. “Have you ever been to Broadway? To see a show, I mean.”

Jack smiled, painfully amused. “Nope, never had a chance.”

“We should go, someday. I haven’t been in a really long time. My parents took me and Sarah to see Phantom of the Opera when we were kids. It was really cool.”

Jack bit back a cringe, pulling a hand out of his pocket to uncomfortably rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, that would be fun.”  _ If I ever have more than eighty dollars in my bank account _ .

“The lady you work for now—you said she runs a theatre, yeah?” Davey asked. Then, like he’d read Jack’s mind, “We could go see something there. I bet it’s cheaper than Broadway. I’ve seen a couple really good community theatre productions. Actually, my high school upstate has a really good theatre program, too. I keep encouraging Les to give it a try.”

“I didn’t know you were a theatre kid,” Jack said, smiling fondly.

Davey scoffed, glancing sideways at Jack and scrunching up his face. “I’m  _ not _ . God, can you imagine? No. Les, though—”

Jack laughed. “I dunno, I think you’d be pretty good.

“I’d probably take two steps onstage and pass out.”

“Well, then I guess you’d better get cast as a swooning southern belle or something,” Jack teased.

“Oh, shut up,” Davey laughed. “What about you? You seem like you’d do well on a stage.”

“My whole world is a stage, sweetheart,” Jack replied, sweeping his arms dramatically.

“Exactly.”

Jack chuckled. “I dunno. Maybe if I had more time.”

Davey went off about his high school’s production of some show—something about glass and homosexual undertones. He seemed happy. He smiled and laughed and talked with his hands, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Jack was barely processing what he was saying, just happy to be listening to Davey sound like himself again. Really, properly like himself again.

And  _ smiling _ . God, it was good to see him smile. Jack thought a happy Davey Jacobs may very well be the most beautiful thing in existence, and he looked so stupidly cute in glasses—

“What are you staring at?”

Mildly startled by the sudden diversion from how unfairly school funding is dispersed, Jack half tripped over his own feet. “I’m not staring,” he replied automatically.

Oh god, Davey was smiling again, but now Davey was smiling  _ at him _ .

Jack could feel a big, dumb smile spread across his face, and he was helpless to do anything about it. “What?”

“It’s the glasses, isn’t it?”

Jack smiled wider. “You’re really cute.”

Davey scoffed. “Here.” He took his glasses off and held them out towards Jack. “You need them more than I do.”

Jack laughed, holding his hand out to ward off Davey’s offer. “Hell no. I’d look like an idiot.”

Davey snickered and put the glasses back on. “A very attractive idiot.”

In classic Davey Jacobs fashion, he reached back and threaded his fingers through Jack’s without seeming to notice. In that moment, Jack could’ve sworn that his heart stopped beating. He stopped moving, too, caught frozen, staring at Davey’s hand in his. Davey exhaled quickly, like he’d just been punched in the stomach.

Jack swallowed hard. “Is this—”

Davey nodded, tightening his grip ever so slightly.

“Can…” Jack took a shaky breath. “Can I—”

Before he could finish, he was knocked back with the force of Davey practically tackling him in a hug. Jack staggered backwards and crashed to the ground as he caught Davey in his arms. Davey buried his face in Jack’s shoulder and gripped the back up Jack’s shirt until his hands began to shake.

Finally, finally,  _ finally _ .

Jack held on tighter than he ever had before, terrified that if he let go for even an instant, he’d be gone again. He tried to say something, but all that came out was a choked sob, and then he was crying, hanging onto Davey as if he’d die if he let go. All of the fear, all of the anger, all of the sorrow and stress, it all fell away, and there was only Davey. Davey finally in his arms again. Davey finally  _ here _ again.

“I love you,” Jack said, more of an exhale than a proper sentence.

“I love you, too.” Davey relaxed his hands. “God, I love you. I’m so sorry—”

“No no no no no, no ‘sorry’s, you haven’t done anything.”

Davey let out a breath that was somewhere between a sigh and a huff. He tilted his head up so he could speak more clearly. “I—I should have asked?”

Jack burst into laughter, now burying his face in Davey’s shoulder. “I love you,” he said again, muffled by Davey’s shirt. He felt like a drowning man who had finally broken the surface, who could finally breathe again. Davey trusted him enough to touch him, to hold him, and by God, if it was the last thing he did, he was going to be worthy of that trust.

Davey pulled back just far enough to look at Jack and brush the tears off his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He laughed. “I dropped my glasses when we fell, so I have no idea who you are, but I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Jack laughed again, so full of so many different thoughts and feelings that he felt like he was about to burst. Holding Davey again was like turning on the light in a dark room, like stepping inside from the cold, he never wanted to let go again. “I missed you.”

Davey winced and pulled him into his arms again. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Jack shook his head, still hanging on tight. “Don’t be.”

“We should...probably get off the path.”

“Mm, I don’t care.” Jack buried his face in the crook of Davey’s neck again, readjusting his arms around him. “You smell good.”

Davey settled himself more comfortably in Jack’s lap and leaned into him, relaxing against him. For the next few minutes, neither boy moved or spoke, they simply held each other. Eventually, Jack began to rub gentle circles over Davey’s spine, mumbling quiet nonsense into his shoulder.

“What are you saying?” Davey asked.

Jack shook his head, continuing to mumble inaudibly. What Davey couldn’t hear, and Jack wouldn’t tell, was his plan to work for as long as he had to to get them a place they could live together, and eventually, get married. Even thinking about such a heavy commitment scared Jack, but with Davey...what else could he do? Davey was special. He was  _ amazing _ . Jack would be stupid to let him go.

“Hey, Jacky?”

“Hmm?”

“May I stay with you tonight? Or you stay with me? It’s okay if you don’t want to, or you can’t, I just—”

Jack nodded quickly, straightening up so he could meet Davey’s eyes. “Yes. Yes of course, always.”

Davey smiled. “Not sick of me, yet?”

Jack shook his head. “Never.”

“You sure?”

“Completely.”

“I love you.”

As always, Jack couldn’t properly articulate how much he loved him, so he settled for that little, barely there, crooked smile that was only ever for Davey. “I love you too, Dave.”

“Good.” Davey took Jack’s hand a squeezed it. “Now, do me a favor and help me find my glasses? I can’t see for shit.”


	44. "Can I Touch You?" (Alternately: Snuggly Bois)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The floodgates have opened, and Jack and Davey are very, very snuggly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of update yesterday; finals are making me die. One more and I'm freeeee! :D

Davey counted. He had gone ten days without any physical contact with Jack, thirteen days without any  _ substantial _ physical contact with Jack, and sixteen days without any real, affectionate, entirely intentional and consensual, physical contact with Jack. Sixteen days since he and Jack got into a stupid fight over Katherine and walked away angry. Sixteen days seemed like a lifetime ago, and the problems they had faced then hardly seemed like problems at all, anymore.

Sitting on Jack’s couch with Jack’s arm wrapped firmly around him, Davey felt safer than he had in...he counted...ah, yes—thirteen days.

He looked up at Jack. He wasn’t even shy about staring. He couldn’t even believe Jack was  _ real _ , much less  _ his _ .

Jack, noticing him staring, looked away from the rerun of LOST that was playing and turned to meet Davey’s gaze. He narrowed his eyes, smiling a little. “What?”

“You’re not real.”

He scoffed, amused. “I’m not?”

“No.” Davey shook his head. “No way. You’re too perfect.”

“I mean, you’re wrong, but okay,” Jack chuckled.

The sound of the front door unlatching then opening, and Crutchie stepped inside looking slightly disheveled. “Hey, Jack. Hey, D—oh, holy shit.” He blinked wide-eyed at the snuggly boys on the couch.

Jack turned his head and grinned at him. “Right, isn’t he adorable? Glasses—who knew!?”

Davey and Crutchie both rolled their eyes.

“How are you, Crutchie?” Davey asked. “Are you alright? You seem a little frazzled.”

Crutchie nodded quickly. “Oh, yeah. Me? I’m fine. How are you?”

“ _ I’m _ fuckin’ fantastic, thanks for asking,” Jack interrupted happily.

“Oh, I bet.” Crutchie was absolutely beaming at them.

Jack frowned slightly. “Dave’s right though you look a bit—” he wiggled his hand instead of concluding his sentence. “What’s up?”

Crutchie blushed. “Absolutely nothing.”

Davey had a sneaking suspicion, and a shit eating grin spread across Jack’s face.

Jack pulled his arm from around Davey’s shoulders, turning to face Crutchie more, and leaned back against Davey’s side. “How’s Lauren?”

Crutchie groaned, flopping against the counter. “Jaaaaack.”

Jack burst into giggles, reaching back to grab Davey’s arm and pull it over his shoulder and across his chest like a seatbelt. “So, good?”

“Yeah,” Crutchie sighed defeatedly, “very good.”

More giggles. “Nice.”

Davey wrapped his other arm around Jack’s waist and pulled him even closer against his chest. “Oh, leave him alone,” he chided. “He’s obviously having a hard day.”

Jack flopped backwards, sliding off Davey’s chest and onto his back across Davey’s lap, still grinning at Crutchie. “It’s nice of Lauren to help you out when you’re having a hard day. Isn’t that nice, Davey?”

“Oh, yes. Very nice.”

“Fuck you both,” Crutchie said with practically negative bite. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“No no no, not us,” Jack corrected, “ _ Lauren _ .”

Crutchie flipped Jack off before closing himself in the bathroom, and Jack and Davey both dissolved into laughter.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Jack giggled.

He was, indeed. Davey was happy for him. “He and Lauren seem to be doing well.”

“I’m just glad they finally admitted they’re a couple. Took  _ way _ too long.”

“As opposed to us.” Davey poked Jack in the ribs, grinning.

“I dunno what you’re talking about, I knew I was stuck the first time I saw you. Just had to wait for you to catch up,” Jack teased, sticking his tongue out.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, you idiot,” Davey laughed. “We met two months ago. We don’t even have the Romeo seal of approval yet, and still, I—...”

Whatever he was going to say, and he didn’t know what that was, it dissolved in his brain before making it out. It was a  _ feeling _ ; it didn’t have words. Well...there was probably a large German word that encapsulated it exactly, but Davey was stuck with English, Hebrew, and what minute amount of French he retained from high school.

Jack nodded, seeming to understand even without the big German word. “Honestly, it’s hard to believe it’s only been two months.” He found one of Davey’s hands and laced their fingers together, looking up at him adoringly. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Davey hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this—Jack’s touch, Jack’s skin on his skin, his warmth...

“I was waiting for you forever,” he said, which was pathetically romantic even for him, but he didn’t care. “I just didn’t know. I didn’t think you existed.”

Jack chuckled wanly. “For a pretty long time, I didn’t. Not like this, anyway.” He gestured to himself, and his face fell a little. “I’m glad you didn’t meet me before… You wouldn’t have liked me.”

Davey eyed him skeptically. “I don’t know about that.”

He huffed, staring at Davey’s hand as he played with it. “I wasn’t a good person.”

“Neither was I,” Davey assured him.

Jack opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again without saying anything, instead pressing a gentle kiss against Davey’s knuckles. Davey’s heart fluttered at that simple action, and he had to blink back a sudden threat of tears.

“Jack, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

Jack laughed lightly. “‘Beautiful’?”

“Yes.”

“Mm, I dunno about that.” He continued playing with Davey’s hand in his.

“I do,” Davey said. He used his free hand to gently stroke Jack’s cheek. “Jack, you are  _ beautiful _ .”

Jack smiled softly. “And you’re ridiculous.” He said it with a tenderness as if he’d said ‘I love you’

“I know.”

Davey turned his attention back to the TV and entirely tuned it out, content to just exist in Jack’s presence for a while.

After a few minutes, he noticed that Jack had stopped playing with his hand, and with a glance down, he saw that he was falling asleep. His head lolled to the side, lips slightly parted as he quietly mumbled nonsense, making the little sounds he always did when he was halfway between waking and sleeping.

Davey smiled fondly and reached for the remote to turn the volume down.

* * *

At two-forty-seven, Jack woke up with a start. There had been some inconsequential noise in the hallway—probably a drunk neighbor coming home, but it was enough to interrupt his sleep. A smile spread across his face as he remembered why he was asleep on the couch, rather than in his bed.

His head was still in Davey’s lap. Davey had apparently fallen asleep sitting up, and was now leaning over the arm of the couch in a way that could not be comfortable at all, with his glasses about to fall off his face.

Jack hesitated, wondering whether to wake him up so he could actually lay down, or to leave him in peace cause it’s really dumb to wake someone up so they can go back to sleep. After a moment of deliberation he decided on a compromise—Take his glasses so they don’t fall off, and if doing so wakes Davey up, so be it.

Jack shifted slightly in Davey’s lap, twisting a bit so he could reach up and carefully slip his glasses off his face.

Davey whined and shifted a little, but didn’t wake up right away. Jack once more considered waking him, since there was no way sleeping twisted and bent sideways over the arm of a couch was good for one’s spine, but he just looked so calm…

Jack sat up carefully, and went to touch Davey’s shoulder to gently wake him, but stopped before making contact. Maybe best not to wake him up by touching him, just in case. He scooted a tiny bit over so there was space between them, and spoke. “Hey, Dave?” There was no answer, so he tried again, a little louder. “Davey?”

Davey gasped lightly, and his eyes snapped wide open. He sat straight up, glancing frantically around the darkened living room, until his gaze landed on Jack.

“Hey hey hey, it’s just me, it’s okay, it’s just me,” Jack assured him gently as he reoriented himself.

Davey let out a breath and relaxed back onto the couch. “Hey.”

“You alright?”

Davey nodded. “Nightmare. No big deal.” His voice was quiet and rough from sleep. He rolled his shoulders and winced. “God, how’d I fall asleep like that?”

“It was pretty impressive, I’ll admit.” He paused a moment, and continued. “Do you want to talk about the nightmare? Crutchie usually talks me through my bad ones.”

Davey chuckled. “It wasn’t a bad one.”

Jack shrugged. “Well, I’m here, if you want.”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I would never,” he replied solemnly.

“Okay,” Davey huffed. “I was dreaming that all the buildings in New York were actually giant robots planted here by aliens to take over the world, and I was trying to get out of the city to get to my family, but the Chrysler building was out to get me specifically and kept blocking the streets.”

Jack clamped his mouth shut resolutely, knowing full well that if he didn’t, he’d fall apart laughing.

Davey sighed, defeated. “You can laugh. It’s hilarious.”

Jack took a steadying breath, very much struggling. “I would never,” he repeated, voice only wavering slightly.

“You were trapped in Hearst Tower with my middle school English teacher,” Davey added.

And boom goes the dynamite. Jack choked and burst into laughter. “Is that where I sit on the priorities list? With your middle school English teacher?” he teased.

“Hearst Tower wanted you. Mrs. Rosenblatt was collateral damage. Furthermore,” Davey held up a finger, “you didn’t give a  _ shit _ about me, because you couldn’t find Crutchie.”

Jack winced, no longer laughing.

“Yeah, exactly,” Davey said, rolling his shoulders again and settling back against the couch in a more comfortable position.

“I’m sorry...?” Jack couldn’t quite discount the Jack of Davey’s subconscious, because he wasn’t entirely off target. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d do in a disaster situation like that—probably involving something other than alien robot buildings, but even so. If Davey and Crutchie were both on the line, Jack would probably just stand there and die before he’d be able to make that choice.

Davey waved him off. “I know my place.”

_ Ouch _ .

Jack winced again. “Davey—“

“If you’re about to try to convince me you wouldn’t sell my soul to the devil for Crutchie, don’t bother.” Davey smiled. “ _ I’d _ sell my soul to the devil for Crutchie. No worries.”

Oh, there were worries.

The awful part was that he wasn’t wrong. Jack didn’t know how to answer. He could tell Davey he mattered more than anything in the world, and that would be true, but the same exact thing could be said of Crutchie, and be equally true. Each of them had hit the pinnacle of importance in Jack’s heart, but the problem was the mountain had two peaks.

“Besides,” Davey went on, shifting closer to Jack, “it doesn’t matter, because it was a weird dream and it will never happen.”

“I dunno, the Chrysler building  _ did _ look pretty hungry the other day,” Jack joked lamely.

Davey giggled and held a hand out to Jack, a silent offer to be touched.

Jack took his hand, scooting closer again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Davey leaned up against Jack’s side and rested his head on his shoulder.

Jack released Davey’s hand, moving instead to wrap his arm around him, and after a quiet moment, he began to trace his fingertips in little patterns over the side of Davey’s shoulder.

Davey hummed contentedly. “It’s late...”

“D’you wanna go back to sleep? My sheets are relatively clean, or we can stay here if you like.” Jack offered.

Davey yawned and nodded, pressing slightly into Jack’s touch.

Jack exhaled, not quite a laugh. “That isn’t an answer, babe.”

For some reason, as Davey leaned into him, this very simple moment struck Jack like a lightning bolt. This was  _ right— _ being with Davey, caring for Davey, it was right. It was what he was meant to do.

“I don’t care,” Davey said. “You’re comfy.”

Jack smiled. “Alright, dingus.” He pressed a kiss into the side of his head. “Lets go to bed. There’s not much more room, but it’s something.”

Davey nodded again and stood up, only slightly off-balance with exhaustion. “Can I borrow clothes?” He gestured to his button-up and jeans. “Not exactly the most comfortable.”

“No, you have to sleep in jeans.” Jack smiled, standing as well. “C’mon.” He cocked his head briefly towards the slightly ajar bedroom door. “I did laundry last week, so I actually  _ have _ pajamas.”

As stealthily as possible, with Crutchie asleep a few feet away, Jack found a t-shirt and a pair of soft sweatpants for Davey to wear. Davey went to change in the bathroom, and Jack picked out some more comfortable clothes for himself. After discarding his jeans and T-shirt in favor of a pair of gray sweatpants, he flopped into his bed and rolled close to the wall, leaving plenty of room for Davey.

After a couple minutes, Davey returned. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out, hesitating for a moment before brushing his hand over Jack’s hair.

Jack smiled up at him, and patted the empty space on the bed next to him, silently inviting him to lie down. As soon as he did, Jack asked, just barely a whisper. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” Davey said, sounding almost as relieved to say it as Jack was to hear it, “you can touch me.”

Jack pressed his lips together, trying to keep his smile to a reasonable level. He wrapped his arm around his waist, cozying up against his back, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“I love you,” he murmured, lips brushing over Davey’s shoulder as he spoke.

Davey let out a breath, gently stroking the arm around his waist. “I love you, too.”

“Is this okay?” Jack whispered. “Me holding you? I can back off if—“

“It’s okay.”

“Promise you’ll tell me right away if anything ever isn’t.”

“I promise.”


	45. Shenannygans Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack returns to the Larkin household for his second weekend as Mary PoppinsTM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally done with school for the semester! Hopefully I will be able to focus more on all these crazy stories, now.

Saturday morning, Jack arrived at the Larkin house promptly at eight-thirty and knocked on the door. He fidgeted, messing with the bottom of his worn-out leather jacket. Everything had gone well the previous weekend, but Jack was still a little nervous about the whole thing.

Medda opened the door with a huge smile. “Good morning, honey. Come on in.”

The moment Jack stepped over the threshold, a screaming toddler barreled into him and hugged his legs. He very nearly toppled over with a surprised yelp, as both of his legs had been hobbled by Mei’s arms, but he managed to catch himself by crashing into the doorframe instead of the ground. With a giggle, Mei scaled his body like a monkey would scale a tree and latched on to his torso.

Medda sighed. “Mei, you’re supposed to ask.”

Mei blinked at her mother, then slowly climbed back down to the floor. She reached her arms up. “Hold me?”

Jack practically melted. “Yeah, of course.”

He stooped slightly to pick her up, and settled her on his hip. “You wanna sit here, or go higher?” He asked.

“Higher!”

Medda laughed. “That girl would climb the Empire State Building, if she could.”

Jack laughed as well, getting a solid hold under Mei’s arms and lifting her up to sit on his shoulders. “Who can blame her? Being tall is fun.”

“Well, you kids enjoy yourselves. The boys are still asleep upstairs, and Lina’s in her swing.” Medda patted Jack’s shoulder on the way out the door.

Jack smiled in return. “Have a nice day, Ms. Medda.”

Mei yelled some sort of messy ‘goodbye’, completely delighted to be on Jack’s shoulders. The door closed, and again, Jack was left alone, completely responsible for four whole children.

“Welp,” Jack addressed the toddler on his shoulders. “Everyone’s asleep, so I guess it’s just us.”

“Ca’ we watch movie?” Mei asked slowly, splitting up the words the way someone just learning how to make sentences does.

Jack nodded, and started towards the living room. “What d’you wanna watch?”

Mei wiggled around in an obvious attempt to get down, so Jack set her down on her feet. She took off at a frankly impressive speed into the living room. He chuckled, taking a moment to shed his jacket and hang it on the nearby coat rack before following at a more reasonable place.

“That’s not really an answer, but okay.”

In the living room, he found Mei rummaging through the cabinet beneath the TV, making a huge mess of DVDs.

Jack winced, and went over to help her. “What are we looking for?”

As soon as he was close enough, she shoved a copy of Moana at his chest.

Jack nodded. “Okay, good choice. Let’s clean up the DVDs first, though.”

This duty, of course, fell almost entirely on Jack. He didn’t mind, expecting this from the start. Once the DVDs were back in the cabinet, Jack spent a good three minutes trying to figure out which remote did what and which one he actually needed before managing to actually set up and start the movie playing.

Mei was transfixed, then. It was shaping up to be an easy morning in the Larkin household.

About halfway through Moana, Catalina woke up and began to cry. Jack quickly collected her from her swing and went to the kitchen to get her a bottle of formula, before returning to the living room and settling back down on the couch with her cradled in one of his arms. As soon as he sat down, Mei scooted over, and shoved her way into his lap. Jack was absolutely delighted that the two of them liked him so much already, he only hoped he could make such a swift impression on the boys, too.

The movie continued, with Mei singing along in mostly nonsense with a real word sprinkled in here or there. Catalina started babbling along to Mei’s excitement, which amounted to quite a chorus.

After Moana, Mei wanted to play with the honestly impressive play kitchen set in the bedroom-turned-playroom. It was all light, solid wood, and hand painted—much better than those flimsy plastic ones. There was an oven with a stove on top, a sink and counter, a fridge, and a microwave, along with a pantry used to store all the little wooden pots and pans and spoons and other such things, as well as  _ tons _ of little wooden foods. Catalina was happy to shake a little spatula around, occasionally hitting Jack’s arm with it as he sat and watched Mei ‘make lunch’. She yelled at him if he tried to help, and after he explained that it wasn’t nice to yell at people, she continued to refuse assistance with very curt ‘no thank you’s, and one very loud, “Don’t need you! Go ‘way!” Which was promptly followed by an apology and half a wooden strawberry.

They were the wonderful kind of wooden foods that were in multiple pieces, held together with Velcro so you could ‘cut’ them. Jack, of course, had never had such a thing when he was a child, so he was just as delighted by the whole thing as Mei was. It became increasingly clear that Mei was trying to play ‘restaurant’ so Jack took to drawing up a menu based on the wooden ingredients he could see when Mei opened the little pantry. He presented his finished work to Mei, and she declared it ‘not good’, so he tried again. The second draft was similarly ‘not good’.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“Ice cweam.”

He made a third menu that only listed ice cream. This one was acceptable.

After about an hour of ice cream restaurant—which didn’t actually offer ice cream—it was nap time. Mei was disinterested, but Jack managed to bribe her into lying down with the promise of two stories and chocolate milk. Catalina was much more compliant and was asleep as soon as she was set down in her crib.

Once both girls were settled, Jack returned to the living room. He was only mildly surprised to see Chris there, awake at noon on Saturday.

“Oh, hey Chris.”

“Hey.” Chris nodded in greeting. “You wanna play video games?”

Jack smiled. “Sure, what’cha got?”

Chris shrugged. “Lotsa stuff.” He gestured to a pile of games near the PlayStation.

Jack nodded, impressed by the sizable collection. “Okay, I’m a bit behind with what’s current, games wise. What’s your favorite?”

Chris shrugged again.

“Okay, fair enough.” Jack went over to look at the stack of games. Most were titles he wasn’t particularly familiar with, but one in particular caught his eye. “Battlefront?”

Chris perked up. “You like Star Wars?”

Jack scoffed. “I’m not a  _ complete _ idiot. Of course I like Star Wars.”

“You wanna play?”

Jack stopped just short of saying ‘hell yeah’, opting instead for a less enthusiastic but more appropriate, “For sure!”

Chris set up the game while Jack went to fetch some sodas from the kitchen.

“You an extended universe kinda guy, or just cinematic?” Jack asked once he returned.

“Extended universe, I guess,” Chris told him. “I’ve seen a little bit of everything.”

Jack nodded. “Books and deep lore?”

“A little.”

He nodded again as he grabbed a controller and dropped onto the couch. “Nice.”

“What’s your favorite Star Wars movie?” Chris asked, selecting a map.

“Well, Empire Strikes Back is the best one,” Jack replied, “but Attack of The Clones is my favorite.”

Chris scrunched up his face in disgust, but was smiling at the same time. “Attack of the Clones sucks.”

“Exactly.” Jack grinned.

“Return of the Jedi is my favorite,” Chris said. He turned his attention towards the TV when the game started. “You ever play this game before?”

Jack shook his head. “Nah, I don’t have a lot of games.”

“The best place in this map is up on those platforms, especially if you’ve got a sniper rifle.”

Jack nodded. “Gotcha. Thanks for the tip. So Star Wars, check. You a Star Trek man as well?”

“Nah,” Chris said. “I’ve seen the new movies, and they’re okay.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I never really got into it. The overacting in the old ones is fun, though.”

“I haven’t seen the old ones...”

“They’re really bad,” Jack assured him. “Like, put a dog in a shiny little coat with a horn on the hood and call it an alien sorta bad.”

“Hmm.”

To be fair, Chris was more open to Jack’s presence than Jackson, but his apparently apathy was still a little discouraging. Jack was briefly torn between pushing the socialization with the risk of being annoying or leaving well enough alone, but being annoying had never stopped him before, and it certainly wouldn’t now.

“So, gaming and Star Wars, what else?”

Chris shrugged. He seemed to do that a lot. “I like sports.”

Ahhh, shit.

“Oh yeah? Any specific or just in general?”

“Football, mostly, but I like ‘em all.”

Jack nodded. “Do you play?”

“Yeah, I’m a running back.”

“Oh, cool.” Jack had absolutely no idea what that meant. Growing up in the system, he never got a chance to play any sports, and he never really got into watching them, either.

“Jack plays, too,” Chris went on. “He’s a quarterback.”

“Nice.” Jack nodded some more, still not having a proper answer. Dammit, he was going to have to learn sports stuff.

As if on cue, Chris asked, “Do you like sports?”

Jack winced a bit. “Didn’t really have the chance to get into them, when I was a kid.”

Chris seemed unfazed by this, focusing more on sniping droids with impressive accuracy. Jack held his own as a droideka until he was shot down by Chris, who was lurking on one of the higher structures in the map.

“Rude!” he exclaimed indignantly, as he was shot down for the third time.

Chris snickered.“That wasn’t even me! You can’t roll a droideka through the water!”

Jack grumbled about design flaws and incompetence as he respawned.

They played for about an hour before being interrupted by the sound of Mei starting to cry upstairs. Jack gracefully exited the game by flinging his droid off the top of the platform he had been on and leaving it to smash on the rocks below as he got up to go check on Mei. When he got to the girls’ room, he was mildly surprised to find Jackson sitting on Mei’s bed, petting her hair as she curled into his lap, still hiccuping through her tears.

Jackson looked up. His face twisted into a look of annoyance at Jack before he looked back down at Mei.

Jack leaned sideways against the doorframe, slipping one of his hands into his pocket. “Looks like you’re better at my job than I am.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Duh, she’s my sister.”

“Fair enough. You definitely know her better than I do.”

As one always does when working with kids, Jack was determined to bond with the Larkin children, or at the very least get them to like him. He knew he’d need a different approach with each one; Chris was very laid back, Mei was clingy, Catalina was a baby—real strong personality trait, that—and Jackson didn’t like Jack. Looking at Jackson comforting his little sister, it was clear that he wasn’t mean spirited or angry, he just didn’t like the intruder in their midst. Jack wasn’t yet sure what angle to work with this kid.

Jackson eyed him suspiciously. “You want something, or...?”

Jack shook his head, shifting off of the doorframe and moving towards the crib on the other side of the room. Mei’s crying had woken Catalina, who was now fussing with increasing volume the longer she was left alone.

“Looks like you’ve got the situation pretty well handled.”

“Yeah.” Jackson grabbed Mei under her arms and pulled her up so that she was sitting properly in his lap. “We’re fine without you.”

Jackson clearly had all his defenses up, but Jack didn’t know whether his walls were built to keep change out or him specifically. Jack reached into the crib to lift the whining Catalina up and settle her against his shoulder, just barely twisting side to side in lieu of rocking.

“You on baby-sitting duty often?” He asked, purposefully keeping most of his attention on Catalina.

“No, Mei just likes me. She likes everyone.”

Jack reached to adjust the blanket he had picked up along with Catalina, and she grabbed onto his finger. “She’s got a lot of energy, huh?”

Jackson glared. “Uh-huh.”

“Well...I’m gonna go see how many droids Chris has killed while I’ve been gone,” Jack said, moving towards the door. He was going to have to work in little bursts, if there was any chance of actual progress with Jackson. If he pushed too hard, he’d be completely shut out.


	46. It's Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javid has their shit together and Sprace is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry 'bout the unannounced break! I was on vacation. Hopefully this ~6000 word chapter makes up for it. There will be a new chapter of Theories of Conflict tonight, too, if we can decide on a chapter title.

“Is Dave coming to family dinner night?”

Jack, who was flopped sideways across the armchair, looked up from his sketchbook, surprised. “Shit, that’s tonight?”

“Yeeeup,” Crutchie, who was covered in flour, said from the kitchen. “Why else would I be making a dozen pot pies, right now?”

Jack shrugged. “Coping mechanism cause I’m so beautiful that you can’t wrap your mind around it?”

“No, it’s because it’s family dinner night, and I need to know if I should make one without meat.”

Jack nodded, already typing out a message to Davey. “ _ Hey babe, I totally forgot tonight is family dinner night. Do you wanna come over? I promise I won’t beat anyone up this time _ .” Jack deleted that last sentence, then retyped it, and then deleted it again before hitting send.

The little ‘Davey is typing’ bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared, then disappeared again for a minute or so. Finally, “ _ I don’t know… _ ”

Jack bit his lip, cringing slightly. “ _ That makes sense _ ”

_ “I don’t want to ruin everyone’s day by flipping out if I get touched.” _

Jack frowned slightly. “ _ I’m gonna make sure no one touches you unless you specifically say it’s okay _ .”

Again, it took a bit for Davey to reply. “ _ Yeah, okay. I trust you _ .”

Jack felt a small hitch somewhere behind his lungs. Davey trusted him. “ _ I love you _ ”

“ _ I know. I love you, too. What time should I be there?” _

“ _ 4:00, like usual _ .”

Davey trusted him. He just hoped to god he was worthy of that trust.

From the kitchen, an irritated exclamation. “So am I making a kosher pie or not!?”

* * *

It’s not that Davey didn’t want to go to family dinner with all of Jack’s friends. He did. He was just a little nervous. The guys were a lot, and the guys were touchy. Davey was doing really well; he didn’t want to set himself back.

“Hey,” Spot said as he and Davey made their way to Jack’s apartment. “Relax. You look like you’re about to throw up or pass out or something else I don’t wanna have to deal with.”

Davey chuckled airily. Spot’s statement was made with his particular brand of dry humor to which Davey was quickly becoming accustomed, and he appreciated it. He hadn’t even tried to hide his relief when he found out Spot had been invited.

“Honestly, I was a bit surprised when Crutchie asked me to come. I know I’m not as tight with him and Jack as all the others are,” Spot went on.

Davey shrugged. “The more the merrier, I guess. I get the feeling Crutchie just likes feeding people.”

Spot laughed. “He’d make a damn good house spouse.”

Davey snickered, scrunching up his nose in amusement. “House spouse? As opposed to husband?”

“Fuck off, it rhymes,” Spot snapped. If Davey didn’t know him better, he would’ve sounded harsh and kind of scary, but the two had ended up getting rather close in a short period of time, and Davey could hear the humor in his voice.

“Never took you for a poet,” Davey said, relaxing already.

Spot shrugged. “My roommate is an English major, guess it sorta rubs off.”

“Oh god, gross, not an English major.”

“Yeah, he’s fuckin’ Jewish, too. How am I supposed to get by?”

Davey laughed, and Spot actually smiled.

“He’s not bad, though, surprisingly not insufferably annoying.” Spot laughed. “Or maybe I just have a high tolerance for annoying, if you consider who I’m dat—” Spot broke his sentence off halfway through the word. He cleared his throat and forced a smile back onto his face. “Anyway, don’t tell anyone I said that. They’ll kick me off RA duty.”

Davey mirrored his expression. “Said what?”

Spot chuckled. “Right.”

They reached the apartment building and made their way to the third floor. Once again, even if they hadn’t known where they were going, Jack’s apartment was impossible to miss by sheer volume. 

Davey had to slow down and take a deep breath. “This is going to be a mess, isn’t it?”

Spot shrugged. “I never been, so I dunno. Probably.”

Davey cringed and, knowing better than to knock and even dream of being heard, opened the unlocked door. Stepping into apartment 32B was like ducking your head underwater; things get quiet and muffled, and your ears feel full—cause they are, that’s how water works. Except in this case it wasn’t water, it was noise. And instead of quiet and muffled, it was loud, and loud.

(Andy: Hey real question what the fuck)

(Kitty: Shut up it’s great)

How Jack and Crutchie weren’t inundated with noise complaints, Davey had no idea.

Most of the guys didn’t even notice their entrance. Those that did smiled and waved politely and immediately returned to their own conversations.

It was Crutchie, who was hopping around the kitchen frantically juggling an ungodly number of pies, who properly addressed them first. “Hey, guys. Welcome. Come on in.”

“Crutchie, where’s your cane?” Davey asked, stepping into the kitchen to help him.

“Slows me down.”

Spot had disappeared into the throng, leaving Davey in Crutchie’s care, and Crutchie seemed quite happy to have the company. “It’s nice to see Spot,” he said as he continued cooking and also somehow cleaning the kitchen as he went. “I wasn’t sure if he would actually show or not.”

“Spot’s a good guy. I’m glad he’s here,” Davey said. Knowing he had at least three people on his team made the chaos more bearable. “Where’s Jack?”

“Uh...” Crutchie glanced out over the half-wall into the living room, frowning slightly. “He was with Mush and Smalls a minute ago, though now I don’t see him...”

As usual, the apartment was full to the brim—some in the living room, some in the bedroom, and now two in the kitchen. Davey wanted to go find Jack, but he didn’t want to wade through a sea of people to do it. His breath shortened as the all too familiar feeling of being lost in a crowd, unable to find the person he was looking for, the person he needed, sank in.

He turned to Crutchie. “I’m gonna step into the hallway. If you see Jack, will you tell him I’m there?” He didn’t wait for an answer before leaving, and only once the door was closed behind him could he take a deep breath. He leaned back against the wall beside the door and exhaled. “Jesus.” 

He knew every single person in that apartment. Logic dictated that he was completely safe, and logic couldn’t get a foothold.

About a minute later, the door opened, and Jack stepped out—Crutchie must have gone to find him. He looked around the door, catching sight of Davey, and a smile immediately lit up his face, only mildly tinged with concern.

“Hey babe, when did you get here?” He stepped forward, holding his hand out to invite contact if Davey wanted it, but not actually initiating.

“A few minutes ago,” Davey said, reaching out to take his hand and lace their fingers together. He felt more comfortable with Jack there, and especially holding onto him so he couldn’t get lost.

“Shit, sorry. I was in the bedroom with Finch.” He paused, frowning with his eyebrows scrunched together. “That don’t sound right, let’s try again. I was in the other room with Finch. He’s got some girl problems going on.”

Davey chuckled. “I’m not worried. You’ve gotten me pretty convinced that you’re mine.”

Jack’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Really? Damn, I thought it was still a secret.” He gently bumped the side of his hip against Davey’s, smiling that awful little smile that always showed up when he was teasing.

“Nope.” Davey smiled back. “Anyway...I’m sorry I bailed.” The smile faltered. “I didn’t know where you were, and I guess I—... You know, when I couldn’t find Oscar and Morris, I—”

Jack shook his head quickly, catching Davey’s other hand in his. “It’s fine, nothing to worry about. I’m here now, and I’m not gonna leave.”

“Thanks.” Davey smiled at him again. “I think I’m okay. Can I just stick by you?”

“I was hoping you would.” Jack smiled gently.

Davey leaned into Jack’s side, and they reentered the apartment, where there were immediately accosted by Jojo, who got about halfway through asking Jack a question that was mostly inaudible over the noise before he glanced at Davey.

His eyes widened. “Wait, you wear glasses?”

“Um, yes?” Davey responded lamely.

Jack snickered, but his response was cut off by the sudden crash landing of Race, who nearly knocked Jojo over as he skidded to a halt.

“Can I wear them?”

“Wh—” Davey blinked. “I need them to see?”

“I want to see, too!” Race insisted.

Jack rolled his eyes and put his hand on Race’s face to shove him backwards. “Get outta here.”

Unfortunately, while they were busy with Race, Blink snuck up behind them. As Jack was shoving Race, Blink reached around and snatched Davey’s glasses.

“Hey!” Davey protested, aiming for indignant and landing somewhere around resigned.

Jack groaned as Blink skipped back across the room, putting Davey’s glasses on as he went and promptly tripping over Specs, who was sitting cross legged on the floor next to the armchair.

Davey pressed himself even closer to Jack. “Cool. Can’t see.”

Jack slid an arm protectively around Davey’s waist and tilted his head to talk to Henry, who happened to be nearby, talking to Sniper. “Hey, Henry, go get Davey’s glasses.”

Henry looked up from his conversation and nodded, then headed over towards Blink.

In his limited experience with ‘the guys’, one thing Davey had noticed above all was the loyalty within the group. It was like they were a platoon of chaos, with Jack as their captain.

Jack leaned in close to Davey and asked softly, “You okay?”

Davey nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Moments later, Henry returned, empty handed. “He doesn’t have ‘em.”

Jack threw his free hand up in only barely surprised exasperation. “‘Course he doesn’t.”

Davey laughed, mostly from nerves but also partially at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Jack grumbled. “Never send a boy to do a dumbass’s job.” He raised his voice to be heard over the crowd. “‘Ey, Race!”

The reply came, shouted from across the room—wasn’t he right here a second ago? “‘Ey, what?”

“C’mere, I got a job for you.”

A few moments passed, and Race came over, happily wearing Davey’s glasses.

“Goddammit Race,” Jack hissed, kicking at his ankle, and Race whined loudly.

“Race, I feel like I’m in an oil painting that moves,” Davey said.

Race looked up from trying to kick Jack’s foot that was kicking him. “What, why?”

Jack just laughed.

Davey explained, “I’m near-sighted. I can only see a few inches in front of my face clearly, unless I have my glasses on...and chances are, you can’t see very well in my glasses, either.”

“Yeah, nah, you’re all...” He wiggled his hands.

“Right. You could solve both our problems by giving me my glasses back.”

Race paused, considering the proposition. Jack rolled his eyes, snatching the glasses off his face barely an instant before gently but forcefully smacking the side of his head and once more shoving the blond idiot away.

Davey chuckled. “My knight in shining armor.”

“Soft, hooded armor,” Jack corrected, briefly indicating the gray zip up hoodie he had on before handing over Davey’s glasses, not once having removed his arm from around him in this entire altercation.

Davey put his glasses back on and let out a short sigh of relief.

Jack grinned at him. “I’m sure that was awful, not being able to see my gorgeous face.”

“Another minute and I might have died.”

Jack nodded very seriously. “We’ve lost a lot of good men that way.”

Before Davey had a chance to reply, Crutchie called out. “It’s soup!”

Immediately everyone else in the apartment save for Davey and Spot shouted, “I thought it was pot pie?!” and then everyone moved towards the kitchen. Davey frowned in confusion and looked to Jack.

“It’s a thing,” Jack explained as they followed the tide towards the table. “I dunno where the hell he got it from, but apparently in Crutchie World, ‘it’s soup’ means ‘food’s ready’.” Jack pulled his arm from around Davey and kicked a chair out from the table for him, dropping into the one next to it. “So he’ll yell ‘it’s soup’ and we yell back ‘I thought it was whatever he’s making’.”

Crutchie nodded as he came over with two shark-head shaped oven mitts on and began depositing pot pies on the table. “It’s a thing.”

He pointed to one in a disposable pie tin with ‘KOSHER’ written on it in Sharpie and underlined. “That one’s yours.”

Davey could help but smile. “Thanks, Crutchie.”

Jack snickered. “Man, we never would’ve guessed.”

Crutchie grabbed the towel he had hanging over his shoulder and smacked Jack on the head with it. Jack cried out as if he’d just be bludgeoned with a crowbar, and Davey rolled his eyes fondly. He loved that stupid boy.

“Well, come on!” Crutchie gestured to the various pies on the table and the counter. “These pies aren’t gonna eat themselves!”

And so the nigh overflowing apartment fell quiet as the occupants began their meal. Of course, this quiet lasted for less than ten seconds before about a dozen different conversations of varying volume and intensity kicked up.

As the room became loud and chaotic again, Jack leaned a little ways towards Davey, and asked quietly. “You doing okay, babe?”

Goddamnit, if Jack Kelly got any more perfect, Davey was going to burst into flames. “Yeah. Thanks, love.”

Jack beamed. “Good.”

Then, Race—who had turned his pie out of its dish and upside down onto a plate—smacked the bottom of the pastry with his fork, intending to break it open. Instead, the side split rather explosively, and hot gravy, carrots, meat, and other such pot pie innards splatted out onto the table, and very unfortunately into Spot’s lap, as he was was sitting next to Race.

“ _ Shit _ ,” Spot hissed, quickly wiping up the hot food with his napkin.

Race cringed, “Oops,” and he turned back to the conversation he had been having with Albert.

Crutchie had gotten up to go grab paper towels, but most everyone else didn’t pay much mind.

“Are you alright?” Davey asked.

Spot rolled his eyes—a gesture Davey distinctly felt was aimed more at Race than at him. “Yeah,” Spot grumbled, “s’ not  _ that _ hot.”

Race briefly turned his attention back to Spot to yell, “But you are, eyooo!” before once again looking back to Albert. Spot rolled his eyes harder, and Davey tried his best not to snicker at Spot’s expense. Jack did not try. Spot shot a glare, along with a carrot, across the table at him, and Jack yelped as the hot vegetable smacked him in the forehead. Davey burst out laughing then, nearly choking on his own bite of pie.

Jack threw the carrot back at Spot, but missed and sent it sailing into the kitchen instead. This very nearly started a food fight, but luckily, Crutchie came back from his quest for paper towels and nixed the food fight. No one dared defy Crutchie.

After dinner, the group collectively decided it was movie time, and movie time meant cuddle puddle time. The coffee table was moved out of the way, and all of the cushions and pillows were pulled off of the couch, as well as the armchair, and dumped onto the floor in front of the TV. Smalls and Mush raided the bedroom, coming back with more pillows and blankets. Ike went to the linen closet and found spare pillows and even more blankets. A massive nest was quickly constructed with surprising skill and efficiency, considering the idiots involved, and fifteen boys tumbled in.

Davey was struck again by just how badly he wanted to be a part of this tight-knit group and just how far removed he was—quite literally, in this case. Just when he was starting to fit in, everything fell apart. Who was to say they would let him in, a second time?

While Jack set up the movie, Davey took a chance and sat on the floor close to the group, mostly because that placement offered him the best view of the TV. Crutchie climbed into the pile, nestling between Finch and Jojo, pretty close to the edge near Davey, and Spot stood back by the couch awkwardly, glaring at Race, who had Albert’s head in his lap and was happily petting his hair. Jack was just about to sit down beside Davey, right on the edge of the nest, when Ike leaned over towards Davey and patted the pillows loudly.

“C’mon Dave, the water’s fine.”

“Yeah, we don’t bite,” Specs assured him, and Sniper added, “much.”

“Hey hey, only on request,” Race said, heavy with dignity. Albert rolled his eyes and whipped an arm up to smack at Race’s head.

“Um...” Davey pressed his lips together until they formed something resembling a smile. “No, thanks, I’m comfortable.”

Finch scoffed. “Dude you look like you’re sitting on an iceberg.”

“Yeah c’mon, we got blankets,” Jojo stated the obvious and wiggled the edge of said blanket at Davey.

“We could at least get you a pillow to sit on,” Buttons said, making to pat Davey on the shoulder.

Davey shrunk back instinctively as Jack, Spot, and Crutchie all lunged in and blocked Buttons’ reach.

“Woah, what the fuck?” Albert asked, frowning.

“I’m sorry,” said Buttons. “I didn’t—”

Davey held up a hand to stop him. “It’s okay, I just...” He was suddenly  _ very _ conscious of all eighteen pairs of eyes watching him with varying levels of confusion and concern. “I’d prefer not to be touched by anyone who isn’t Jack, right now.”

There was nodding, but also some quiet mumbles of confusion.

“Is everything okay?” Mush asked, concerned.

Davey winced, and it was probably noticeable. He knew this would happen. He knew there would be questions.

Jack glanced down at him, still standing between Davey and the group.

“Yeah, what happened?” Smalls added.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but the voice heard was, confusingly, not his.

“Does it matter? Doesn’t look like he wants to talk about it, so shuttup.” Race wriggled out from under Albert and crawled across the nest towards Davey, grabbing and dragging some pillows and blankets with him as he went. Without so much as a look at Jack, Race pushed his way between his legs and under him to start constructing a mini-nest around Davey, being very careful not to touch him.

“Well, we’re here for you, man,” Finch said. “We’ll listen, if you do wanna talk.”

Murmurs of agreement washed through the group, along with nods and a few affirming ‘we gotcha’s, and ‘don’t worry about it’s.

Still knelt directly under Jack, Race gently shoved two of the spare bed pillows into Davey’s lap. “I can’t exactly get these under you, but they’ll be better than the floor.”

New goal: Don’t cry. Don’t cry at family dinner night. Don’t cry because these people are so wonderful.

“Thank you, Race,” Davey said sincerely. Really, he felt that shit in his soul.

Race shushed and pshawed, crawling back towards Albert, seemingly blind and deaf to the protests of the four different people he trampled. He landed in Albert’s lap this time, and while Albert looked none too thrilled to be a body pillow, he didn’t do anything to stop Race from completely covering him. Davey didn’t spare a glance at Spot, who had retreated back to the edge of the couch after blockading Davey and now perched on the plush arm, but he was almost certainly giving Race a look that could very easily set someone on fire.

Jack sat down on the pillows, about halfway between Davey and the main nest, and aimed the remote at the TV, turning on Lord of the Rings. Davey reached out and took Jack’s hand, and Jack smiled easily, letting out a gentle, comfortable sigh. It almost surprised Davey, how suddenly and completely at ease he seemed. Buttons, who was stretched out near Henry and Smalls, flopped his legs up over Jack’s, integrating him into the cuddle puddle. Davey scooted a little closer to Jack, bringing Race’s nest with him, so he could lean up against Jack’s side. Jack smiled wider and slid an arm around Davey’s waist as he came to rest his head on Jack’s chest. The title sequence played as the movie finally kicked on.

It was strange, seeing the group like this. Davey had only ever seen ‘the guys’ as a chaotic mess, loud, rambunctious, and frequently violent. But now, here they were, quiet and all cuddled together in a big pile. In fact, it was downright peaceful.

Jack began to absently trace patterns across Davey’s side, and Davey hummed lightly and let his eyes fall closed. He needed this—to be there with Jack and all his friends.

At some point between then and the next time Davey opened his eyes, Spot moved down to the floor next to Henry. They made quiet comments about the movie and generally seemed to be getting along. That was nice to see. Davey liked Spot a lot, but he knew he could be intimidating to people who didn’t know him well. It made sense that he was reaching out to others in the group. Race had been practically ignoring him since dinner, entirely focused on the ever disinterested Albert. Every now and then, if Race laughed at something Albert said, or if he made Albert smile, Spot would shoot a venomous glare in their direction. Poor guy.

Now, however, it was Race who was glaring. Spot didn’t even seem to notice, having apparently forgotten about his lecherous friend-with-benefits for the time being, which only made Race glare harder. Spot and Henry were sharing some joke that Davey hadn’t caught, and the more Spot smiled, the angrier Race looked. The direct mirroring between the two would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so uncomfortable.

Davey nudged Jack and gestured minutely to Spot, then Race. Jack glanced over as directed and winced. It almost seemed to have turned into a competition of who could be more pissed off over the other smiling at someone else. Surprisingly, at the moment, it seemed that Race was winning.

Spot was showing Henry something on his phone, and the two were having an at least relatively in depth conversation about whatever it was. Spot seemed to be enjoying himself—always a bit unusual to see plainly. Race’s upper lip twitched into a snarl, and he stood up, kneeing Albert in the stomach as he did. He marched over, grabbed Spot by the shirt collar, and dragged him out of the apartment, slamming the door behind them.

Davey looked at Jack. Jack was looking towards the door, eyes wide. In fact, everyone was looking at the door. They could hear Race yelling in the hallway, and in less than a second, Spot as well.

Specs turned to Albert and whispered, “Did Spot just call Race a whore?”

Albert cringed. “I think he did...”

There was a slam out in the hallway, and the yelling got louder.

Crutchie shifted nervously. “Dave, you know Spot better than any of us...”

“He won’t hurt Race,” David assured him. That didn’t mean he wasn’t worried.

Even Jack seemed hesitant to go try to break up the fight. He had stood up, but seemed caught between moving towards the door and staying put.

Eventually, Race very clearly shouted, “Fuck you,” Spot very clearly shouted, “Absolutely not,” heavy footsteps stomped off down the hallway, and finally, there was blissful silence. Or, rather, really uncomfortable silence.

After a moment, the door opened again, and Race stalked inside, slamming the door behind him and scowling fit to sour milk. He immediately retreated to the bedroom and slammed that door behind him as well.

Davey winced. “I’m gonna find Spot.” He stood up.

Jack nodded, already walking towards the bedroom. 

* * *

Jack didn’t bother knocking on the door, just opening it and going right in. It was his room, after all. He shut the door behind him and offered a sympathetic cringe to the angrily pouting boy sitting on his bed.

Race huffed. “Whaddaya want, Jack?”

Jack half chuckled, giving him a vaguely incredulous look as he moved to sit down on the bed beside him. He completely ignored Race’s question in favor of one of his own. “So, what was all that?”

“Spotty being a dickhead, obviously!” Race gestured dramatically to the door as if it were Spot.

Jack disguised his snort of laughter with clearing his throat. ‘Spotty’. “Sure, but how so?”

Race grumbled nonsense, pouting harder and shrinking in on himself.

Jack rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I know you wanna bitch about it.” He shoved Race’s shoulder gently. “Spit it out.”

Race whined, “He’s  _ miiiiine _ .”

* * *

“It’s not like we’re  _ together _ . As he reminds me so frequently, we’re ‘just having fun’,” Spot snarled, glaring at the railing in the stairwell as if it was the thing that had wronged him.

Davey nodded. “Have you, um...talked to him about it?”

“Whaddayoumean ‘talked to him about it’?” Spot grumbled.

“I don’t know.” Davey shrugged lightly. “Boundaries? What it is you both want and expect?”

Spot scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I haven’t gotten a chance. Any time we’re alone he’s got his hands in my pants before I can even blink.”

“That...doesn’t just happen when you’re alone…”

* * *

“And he never wants to be physical with me when there are people around. Ever. At all,” Race complained. “Won’t even kiss me in front of Davey in their own room!”

“To be fair, Racer, not everyone likes an audience.”

“It’s not an  _ audience _ , it’s  _ Davey _ .” Race flopped back onto the bed. “Totally different.”

Jack tilted his head side to side. “Ehh, not much different.”

“Well...still!” Race flailed his arms as he spoke. “I have  _ needs _ , Jack! I can’t help who’s in the room.”

Jack tried not to laugh. “Spot’s a more private person, y’know? He doesn’t like people being in his business, and I guess you count as his business?”

* * *

“It’s none of my business what he does, and it’s none of his business what I do,” Spot said angrily. “He can’t have it both ways.”

“I know,” Davey assured him, feeling increasingly like he was trying to diffuse a time bomb. “I agree. It’s not okay for him to hold you to different standards.”

“It doesn’t even count as standards if it’s different every other minute!” Spot’s voice was beginning to rise again in his frustration. “First, he’s crying if I even  _ look _ at anyone who isn’t him, and then Albert’s there, and he’s furious if I  _ do _ look at him, and five minutes later he wants to fuck, and then he won’t speak to me for three days and gets all offended and huffy if I try to talk to him at all!” Spot groaned, leaning forward to put his head in his hands as he sat on the step just below the landing. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with him?”

* * *

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with him?” Race asked, flailing his arms wildly as he spoke and accidentally smacking Jack in the leg.

“Maybe talk to him instead of smacking me?”

“Can’t,” Race sighed. “He’s too hot. I’ll fuck him by accident.”

* * *

“It’s not like we can just talk it out. He’s never interested in talking. Doesn’t give a shit what I have to say.” Most of the anger had drained out of Spot’s voice, replaced with a sort of resigned sadness.

Davey took a chance and asked, “Why do you stay with him?”

Spot looked over at him, brows knit in a slight frown. “It ain’t ‘stayin with him’ when we ain’t together in the first place.”

“You know what I mean, Spot.”

He let out a rough exhale and leaned back, bracing his arms behind him and looking upwards. “Honestly, Dave, I don’t know.”

But Davey did. Davey saw it in the way Spot’s gruff manner softened ever so slightly when Race was around. He saw it in the way Spot looked at Race when Race wasn’t looking back. Spot had caught some serious feelings for Race, whether he was willing to admit it to himself or not.

* * *

It took about another forty minutes to get Spot and Race calmed down to the point where they were willing to be in the same room again. The resulting tension made for a rather uncomfortable rest of family dinner night, and by about ten-thirty, everyone had headed home. Davey stayed after to help tidy up, as seemed to be tradition.

“I’m glad I came,” he told Jack gently as they were both doing dishes. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Jack looked up from the pie pan he was scrubbing to smile at him. “Don’t be silly. I always want you around.”

Davey smiled back, and Jack continued. “So what was Spot all worked up about? I got Race’s side, obviously, but he’s about the least reliable source there is.” Jack half chuckled, placing the dish in the drying rack before reaching for the next one.

Davey was struggling with one particularly stubborn pie pan and had been for the last minute or so. He stuck the tip of his tongue out of the side of his mouth in concentration, and it was unreasonably adorable. He muttered a curse when some dish foam splashed up onto his glasses, set down the pie pan, and took a step back to clean his glasses on his shirt. He sighed, “Race isn’t exactly faithful to Spot, at all, but I guess he expects Spot to be?” He put his glasses back on. “I don’t know. The whole thing is a wreck.”

Jack frowned. “It’s like he’s trying to apply relationship rules to friends with benefits, but only halfway...”

“Exactly!” Davey was back, trying to chisel a piece of pie crust off the pan with the back of a scrub brush. “And what really sucks is—” He pointed the brush at Jack. “Don’t tell Spot I told you this if you value my life.” Back to the pan. “Spot’s got it bad for Race, so he won’t just ditch him. It’s painful to watch.”

Jack cringed. “Oh no, really?”

Davey nodded. “It’s bad.”

“Yikes.”

Jack was quiet for a moment, thinking how awful it would be if that was him. He could barely imagine what it would be like to not be with Davey, or to be with him, but not really.

“I’m glad we aren’t like that...”

Davey laughed. “Me, too. Can you imagine?”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t want to.”

Davey finally separated the pie crust from the pie tin and made a little noise of surprise and delight. “Finally!”

Jack bit his lip in an attempt to keep his smile to a reasonable level. “Are you sure you’re authorized to be this cute?”

“Shut up,” Davey shot back instantly. “I am a mature adult.” He scooped up a handful of soap bubbles and threw them at Jack.

Jack laughed, dodging. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say, babe.”

Davey finally finished cleaning the pesky pie pan and stepped around Jack to place it in the drying rack. “What about Race?” he asked. “What’s his story?”

Jack sighed, drying his hands and turning around to lean on the counter, arms bent up to grip the edge on either side of him. “Well, it’s Race, so he doesn’t want to share.”

Davey shrugged. “I can relate, but...”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, but he don’t have a claim on Spot like you do on me. He’s  _ very _ clear that they aren’t a couple.”

For a moment, referring to himself as something that Davey had a claim on, something that belonged to him, tasted sour in Jack’s mouth. But then Davey smiled, and how could he complain?

Davey laughed softly. “We’re some of the lucky ones, aren’t we?”

Jack shrugged, tilting his head to the side as he did, and began washing dishes again. “Well  _ I  _ am, yeah. Not so sure ‘bout what you got stuck with though.”

“Whatever.” Davey came to stand next to Jack at the sink again and started washing silverware. His arm brushed against Jack’s as he did.

Jack looked over at him and paused for a moment. “Can I touch you?”

“Sure.”

Not bothering to dry his soapy hands, He shifted slightly behind Davey to wrap his arms around him and buried his face in his shoulder, letting out a content sigh as he settled there. Davey placed his hands over Jack’s and laced their fingers together, and Jack pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his shoulder.

“I hope you know you’ve ruined everything,” Jack said.

“How so?”

“Well,” another kiss before he rested his chin on Davey’s shoulder, “I was gonna go move across the country, have some dramatic journey, suffer a lot, y’know, art stuff.” He sighed. “But now, I’m stuck.” Jack lifted his arms, still completely encircling Davey with their fingers laced together. “See? Can’t go anywhere.”

Davey chuckled lightly. “Good.”

Crutchie, who was tidying up the living room, huffed. “Could you two go be beautiful and in love out of my sight?”

“Hey, man, you’re the one lookin’,” Jack retorted happily, resettling his arms more securely around Davey.

Crutchie made a gagging noise and went back to fluffing the decorative pillows he insisted on having, and Jack smiled fondly at him before turning back to lean his head against Davey’s shoulder.

“Are you staying over tonight?”

Davey sighed. “No, I should check on Spot...”

“Mm,” Jack nodded. He was disappointed, but of course it made sense. “Man, you got really sketchy taste in men. Spot as a friend and me as your boyfriend?” He cringed, teasing, “Questionable choices at best.”

“Don’t be mean. You’re both great.” Davey extracted himself from Jack’s arms, but kept ahold of his hands. “Speaking of, it’s late. I should go home.”

Jack hummed, bringing one of his hands up to press a kiss against his knuckles. “Lemme know how Spot’s doing, ‘uh?”

“I will.” Davey leaned in and placed a quick, gentle kiss on his lips. “Goodnight. I love you.”

Jack’s breath caught and his eyes widened. It took a second for time to start up again, and a wide smile quickly spread across his face. “I love you too, Davey.”

Davey squeezed his hands once more before he left, promising Jack he’d let him know when he got home.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Jack whirled around to face Crutchie, absolutely beaming. “Did you see!?”

Crutchie side-eyed him. “Did I see...your sweet and affectionate boyfriend kiss you goodnight?”

Jack nodded eagerly, still grinning like an idiot.

“Uh, yeah?” Crutchie asked, smiling in that amused-but-concerned fashion one does.

“Crutchie, he  _ kissed me _ .”

“Congratulations?”

Jack threw up his hands, still utterly delighted. “You’re useless.”

Crutchie scoffed. “And you’re whipped.”

“I’m  _ happy _ ,” Jack corrected, and goddamn was he ever. A little goodnight kiss may be a simple thing, but it was a simple thing that hadn’t happened in over two weeks. It was a simple thing that meant things were getting better, and that Davey trusted him.


	47. Sports

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Jake's real character now. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

As soon as his art class on Thursday ended, Jack moved quickly, making a beeline for a certain, rather brick-shaped individual a few rows up.

Jake looked up, startled, when Jack appeared at his side. “Uh...hi.”

“Hey, sorry, how’s it going?” Jack greeted him awkwardly.

“Good, good...” Jake nodded. “You?”

“Sure.” That isn’t a state of being. “Hey, do you, like, know sports?”

Jake sputtered a laugh. “Yeah, dude. Why?”

“Great.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable. “Will you, like, teach me?”

Jake’s eyes widened. “...Sports?”

Jack nodded, feeling weirder by the second.

“Just...” Jake shook his head slightly. “Sports?”

“Uh, football, specifically.”

“Why?” Jake shook his head again. “I mean, yeah, sure, of course, but why?”

Jack let out a huff of breath, the awkwardness was almost palpable at this point. “I got this job working with kids, and both the boys do football.”

The bafflement drained from Jake’s face. “Oh, cool. Yeah, I gotcha.” He stood up and grabbed his backpack. “What do you want to know? What do you know, to begin with?”

“I know there’s teams, and a ball, and folks get lotsa concussions.”

Jake snickered. “Awesome.” As the two wandered out of the classroom, he began. “So, do you know what a touchdown is?”

“Let’s just assume I know nothing,” Jack said, cringing out a smile. He hated feeling at a disadvantage or not knowing something, and while football doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, it was still something he didn’t know.

A look of horror briefly flashed across Jake’s face. “Okay, well, a touchdown is when a team gets the ball into the correct end zone. It’s worth six points. It’s the goal, basically.

Jack nodded, shifting the strap of his backpack more securely onto his shoulder. “A’right.”

“And ya gotta get there in at least ten-yard increments.”

Another nod. “Okay,”

“And ya got four chances to make it at least ten yards. If you do, you get another four chances to make it another ten yards from wherever you ended up. If you don’t, the other team gets the ball.”

“Mhm.” It honestly did sound like it would probably be fun, but he still didn’t really get why people would just watch it.

“It’s uh...” Jake ruffled his own hair, grimacing. “It’s hard to explain without showin’ ya. You got any free time right now?”

* * *

After a good ten minutes of watching various clips of football games on YouTube, Jack was starting to get a proper grasp on the theory of the game. It occurred to Jack, as the two of them sat at the table, chairs scooted together so they could both look at Jake’s laptop, that he had never spoken to Jake on any non-class or crisis related subject. Jake was a pretty nice guy, for being a giant, blond brick.

Jake paused the video on an overhead shot just before the beginning of a play. “So this here is the offensive line. That’s the center.” He pointed to the guy in the front middle. “He snaps the ball. The two on either side are the guards. That’s what I play. Then you’ve got the tackles, the tight end over here, and these guys out here are the wide receivers.”

None of these words properly meant anything in Jack’s head, but he nodded anyway.

“The center snaps the ball to the quarterback here, then the quarterback will either run with it, hand it off to a running back, or pass it.”

“Shit, I should be taking notes,” Jack muttered, only mostly joking.

“Just watch.” Jake pressed play and let the video run, and Jack tried to keep up. A few seconds later, Jake continued. “So you see,” he explained, pausing the video again, “that was the third down, and they still have six yards to go to get a first down, so instead of going for it and probably handing the ball over right there, they’re going to use their fourth down to kick the ball back, so the other team doesn’t start so close to their end zone.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah okay, that makes sense.”

Jake was about to press ‘play’ again, when there was a knock on the door.

Jack’s gaze snapped to the door, and he frowned slightly. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and Crutchie was studying at the library, so it’s doubtful he had any pending guests, either.

“Hold that thought,” Jack got up and moved to open the door, and was surprised to find Davey on the other side. He blinked. “Dave, hey. What are you doin’ here?”

“Sorry, I—...” Davey smiled awkwardly, and it was adorable. “I left my jacket here, and I was just on my back from studying with my friends, so I thought I’d stop by and see...”

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “No no no, nothing to worry about. C’mon in.” He nudged the door further open. “Jake’s here, teaching me about football.”

“Who’s J—” Davey stopped short just inside the doorway, eyes widening slightly when they fell on Jake.

Jake reacted in much the same way, but he snapped out of it quickly and offered Davey a smile and a nod. “Hey, how’re you doin’, uh...” He cringed. “Daaavid?” he finished uncertainly.

Davey nodded. “Yeah, David.”

Jack glanced nervously at Davey, it probably wasn’t great for him, seeing someone who had been there. “Yeah, Jake’s in one a’ my art classes.”

“Your friend here knows jack shit about football,” Jake said, then he chuckled to himself. “Heh—‘Jack shit’.”

Jack rolled his eyes with a small smile, mildly amused by the pun, but still much more concerned with Davey’s wellbeing and comfort. He and Jake were both clearly and wildly uncomfortable.

Davey gestured vaguely towards the bedroom. “I’m just gonna—...”

Jack nodded quickly. “For sure.” He turned to Jake for a moment, “Give us a sec?” before following Davey into the other room.

Davey didn’t say anything, just grabbed his jacket from the top of Jack’s dresser, where he had left it during family dinner night.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t know you were coming by. He’s just helping me with a thing for the kids, I didn’t really think about him being—”

“Jack.”

He stopped, pressing his lips together tightly.

Davey clutched his jacket tightly, betraying his nerves, but his voice was calm. “Jake helped me. Without him, I... I have no idea. I didn’t even know his name.”

Jack nodded carefully. “He’s a good guy...”

“Yeah.” Davey smiled gently. “Sorry for interrupting. I probably should have texted you ahead of time.”

Jack shook his head. “No, nothing to be sorry about. It’s fine.”

“I’ll text you later?”

Jack nodded, reaching towards him but checking himself before he made contact. “Are you okay?”

Davey took Jack’s extended hand. “I think so.”

Jack nodded again, gently squeezing his hand.

With another precious little smile, Davey let go and headed back to the living room. “Sorry for interrupting,” he told Jake on his way out.

Jake waved at him. “No problem, man. Good to see ya.”

Jack followed him to the door and, as always, found himself searching for an excuse for Davey to stay or to see him later. “Do you wanna do something tonight? Even just dinner or whatever?”

Davey winced. “I have a paper due tomorrow, but...tomorrow night?” he asked hopefully.

Jack smiled. “Whatever you need, babe.”

The smile that appeared on Davey’s face was worth anything. “Perfect. I love you.”

Jack held onto the door, conveniently looking like he was holding it open for Davey, instead of trying to keep from melting. “I love you, too. Good luck with the paper. Go do smart things.”

With a soft, “See you tomorrow,” Davey disappeared down the hallway.

Like a lovesick puppy, Jack watched till he disappeared into the stairwell before shifting back into the apartment and shutting the door.

Jake was very intently looking at the paused video on Jack’s computer screen. “So you and David, you’re uh...”

Jack looked up at him, heading back to the table. “Dating, yeah.”

“I didn’t know,” Jake said. “Were you together when...” He grimaced. “I’m sorry. That’s a horrible question. No one wants to talk about that.”

“Uh, yeah...yeah, we were,” Jack answered him anyway, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably as he sat down again.

Jake grimaced harder. “Shit.”

“Yeah...” Jack half heartedly shrugged, not really knowing how to answer.

Jake shook his head, still staring vacantly at the screen. “I don’t know how you do it. If it was my girlfriend, I’d...probably be in jail, right now.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “I can’t even imagine.”

Jack chuckled darkly. “Believe me, if I knew who it was...”

Jake looked off towards the door, almost as if Davey was still there. “He’s doing okay, though?”

With a quiet sigh, Jack nodded. “Yeah, he’s doing a lot better.”

A small smile pulled at Jake’s lips. “You two are cute.”

Jack glanced at him briefly, smiling a little as well. “Nah, that’s all Dave.”

“I mean together,” Jake clarified, rolling his eyes. “You obviously care about him. It’s cute.”

“Well, yeah, have you  _ seen _ him? Of course I do.” Jack snickered.

Jake nodded. “Little too, you know,  _ male _ for my taste, but a’ight.”

Jack laughed at this. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

Jake was a good guy, and Jack would be forever grateful for how he’d helped Davey. Being taught about football was surprisingly not awkward; Jake was really nice about it, and didn’t make Jack feel dumb for not knowing things. By about four o’clock, he was pretty sure he had the gist of it, and on Jake’s way out they exchanged numbers, and Jake told him to feel free to reach out if he had other questions.

Jack leaned back against the door once he shut it and typed out a text to Davey.

“ _ You better watch out, I know sports, I’m a  _ real _ man now. _ ”


	48. It’s Pure Fluff and Somehow We Still Managed to Make It Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Davey have a movie night, it's adorable, and then it hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idek how we managed this.

Friday night, Davey and Jack decided to have a movie night. Crutchie would be out with Lauren. Davey got to pick the movie, and Jack would handle the rest. Dress code was pajamas. Davey picked The Imitation Game and managed to find it on DVD at a nearby used book store. Jack texted ahead of time to tell him that the door would be unlocked and just to come in. Davey arrived at six o’clock in the evening to find a rather impressive blanket fort. The apartment smelled like cheese pizza and popcorn, and Jack was nowhere to be found.

Davey grinned, closing the door behind him. “You’re in the fort, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said a voice from within the fort.

All the couch cushions had been taken off and used to set up three low walls in front of the couch, with a blanket stretched from the back of the couch over top of the walls. The armchair was also devoid of cushions, and Davey assumed these would be inside the fort. Shaking his head fondly, he made his way over and crawled into the fort through the gap in the front that provided an entrance, as well as a clear view of the TV. As Davey had suspected, the inside of the fort was filled with blankets and pillows.

Jack was on his back, half buried in blankets, and he beamed at Davey when he appeared in the entrance. “Hey, baby.”

Davey chuckled. “You look comfortable.”

“Mmm, mostly,” he replied, clearly hinting that something was missing.

“You need a human teddy bear?” Davey asked knowingly.

Jack threw his hands up, looking at him in awe. “Folks say you’re a genius, but goddamn. You’ve outdone yourself, Davey.”

Davey rolled his eyes. “Let me just get the movie started.”

He briefly left the nest to fuss with the remote, and once the movie was set up and Davey pressed ‘play’, he situated himself in Jack’s arms.

Jack let out a slow, content sigh and was just quiet for a moment before asking, “So how’d the paper go?”

“It’s done, turned in, and out of my hands,” Davey told him, already getting the distinct feeling they would not be paying much attention to the movie.

Jack nodded, still on his back and not even pretending to look at the TV. “D’you think it’s good? That’s a dumb question. You’re stupid smart; of course it’s good.”

Davey smiled. “You’re biased because you love me.”

Jack hissed, making a ‘keep it down’ motion with his hand and looking suspiciously towards the entrance of the fort. “Quiet, if the enemy hears you they could use that intel against us!”

“The enemy?”

“What, you think I made this fort to be cute? We’re in a war zone!” Jack sputtered indignantly.

“Are you high?”

He chuckled. “No. After last time, Crutchie said I’m not allowed anymore.”

Davey rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Well, now you have to tell me what happened, last time.”

Jack pressed his lips together tightly, narrowing his eyes at Davey. “What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll be happy.”

Jack rolled onto his stomach, already talking and gesticulating before his elbows hit the floor. “Okay, so Happy WinterFriends, last year, right? Starting like, before Thanksgiving, Race was going on and on about what an amazing present he had for the group, and it was this whole big thing, and we had a betting pool, and Sniper almost decked Henry cause he disproved his tattoo theory.”

Davey nodded, grinning. What absolute, excellent dumbasses.

Jack derailed briefly to explain. “Most of us aren’t particularly religious, and Race got it in his head that we had to be ‘fair’, so he started coming up with a plan to Frankenstein all the winter holidays together, and because we’re dicks, we started making up holidays to tell him about, so he’d add them to the list. Eventually, Buttons came up with Happy WinterFriends, and it was everyone’s favorite, so now we just do that. It’s a great holiday, you’re gonna love it.” Jack continued, “But anyway, day of, everyone comes over with their gifts and with food, and we put all the gifts in the bucket, but Race didn’t bring anything. He just brought a box of cookies. So, of course, we’re all wildly suspicious, but it’s a Walmart box, with those butter cookies that have the colored sugar on top? Still sealed and everything, so they couldn’t have been tampered with.” Jack chuckled, widening his eyes to indicate the intensity of what happened next. “Hooo boy, were we wrong. I still don’t know how he did it, but we were. Fucked. Up. He didn’t eat any till later, so he won the egg race, and of course that just made everything worse.”

Davey quirked an eyebrow. “Dare I ask what you did to make Crutchie step in on your behalf?”

“Well, since Race won the race,” Jack paused to snicker at his own words, “that marked him as captain, and the only way to contest captainship is persuading Buttons that you’d do a better job—Buttons is the reigning king of Happy WinterFriends, three years running. He’s up for re-election this year, but we all know he’s gonna win. Anyway, Buttons allowed the contest, but Race got to pick what we’d do, since he was the captain, and the defendant always gets to choose. Race, of course, picked seduction, and Crutchie wouldn’t hear it. He stopped us before we could get outside and find targets.”

Davey narrowed his eyes. “What does this have to do with you specifically?”

Jack cleared his throat, looking towards the TV as if he was suddenly very interested in The Imitation Game. “Oh you know, I may have tried to go out the window.”

“You—” Davey tried not to laugh, but then his brain oh-so-helpfully provided an image of his beautiful boyfriend trying to climb out the window, and he collapsed into the pillows, unable to get a breath in.

“Yeah. I woulda made it, too, but Crutchie sorta latched onto my leg so I got stuck.”

Davey thought his ribs might crack from the sheer force of his laughter.

“Before you ask, no, there are not pictures,” Jack said, sounding calmly resigned.

“Out the  _ window _ ,” Davey squeaked pathetically.

Now Jack snickered, looking over at him adoringly and rolling onto his back again, wiggling a little to get comfortable. “Yeah, everyone got sorta dragged into it. Race was trying to get Crutchie offa me, Albert was trying to get Race offa Crutchie, Blink and Sniper were tryin’ to get at Albert, but Buttons, Henry, and Specs were defending him. It turned into a whole thing.”

“You live on the  _ third floor _ .”

“Oh, I know,” Jack laughed.

Davey finally managed to catch his breath and sighed, cuddling back up to Jack’s side, which was only slightly awkward with him being a little bit taller. “I wish I had friends like yours.”

Jack frowned. “You do. Dave, they love you. Race won’t shut the fuck up about you.”

Davey didn’t know what to make of that, at all. His only friends from early high school didn’t like him anymore, and after moving upstate, he hadn’t made many—and by ‘many’, I mean ‘any’. He’d told himself that he didn’t care, that he didn’t have the time, but as life went on, he was having a harder and harder time denying that he had been holding people at arm’s length to keep himself safe and comfortable.

“Oh...” he said softly.

Jack smiled gently at him. “I know they’re dicks, but they really do like you, I promise.”

“No, I know,” Davey said. “I just thought I was...an extension of you, I guess.”

Jack shook his head. “No way, you got way too much to ya to just be an extension of me. If anything it’d be the other way ‘round.”

“Self-deprecation’s getting old, babe.” Davey laid his head down on Jack’s chest. “You know I think you’re amazing.” In the back of his mind, he was thinking back to family dinner night. The guys certainly hadn’t treated him like an extension of Jack, then.

Jack smiled softly and dropped a kiss on the top of Davey’s head. “I know...”

* * *

The Imitation Game was, objectively, a good movie. Probably. Jack hadn’t paid even a bit of attention to it, much too distracted by how normal things were again. At some point, he and Davey had sat up to eat pizza and popcorn, shoulder to shoulder. Then, somehow, in classic Davey Jacobs fashion, Davey had ended up sitting across Jack’s lap.

“Remember when we first met,” Davey began suddenly after a moment of silence, “and I ran into you and Crutchie in the library, and you guys just had this giant vat of cheese puffs, and you compared yourself to herpes?”

Jack choked into a laugh. Ah yes, Jack ‘I’m Like Herpes’ Kelly, real smooth operator. “Can we  _ not _ remember and say we did?”

“Absolutely not. It’s one of my most treasured memories.” Davey bounced a piece of popcorn off Jack’s face. “Besides, you were right; I still have you.”

Jack gasped in mock outrage. “Rude! I am  _ much _ more enjoyable than herpes.”

“Debatable.”

More fake and huffy outrage to cover how absolutely delighted he was with this entire evening. “Well fine, then. if I’m so unpleasant, you won’t mind if I just—”

As he spoke, he stood up, unceremoniously dumping Davey on the floor and completely ruining the blanket roof of the fort. Davey yelped as he tumbled to the floor and quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Jack looked down at him, quickly burying his grin in a look of stately displeasure. “If you’ll excuse me.” He began walking towards the bedroom, letting the blanket drag and fall off his head, absolutely destroying his hair as it went.

“Where are you going?” Davey called after him.

“Oh, don’t mind me, just getting out of infection range. Can’t have you catching Dumbass Disease.” He turned back for a moment to tap the side of his head with a finger and drop a wink. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty brain of yours.”

Davey excavated himself from the remains of the pillow fort and chased after him. Turning away to hide the wide grin that he was having trouble containing, Jack headed towards the dresser and pulled a drawer open, digging through aimlessly.

Davey leaned up against the side of the dresser and cocked his head like a curious puppy. “What are you looking for?”

“Oh, the hazmat suit,” Jack replied lightly.

Davey grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him in for a quick kiss. “Too late.”

Jack stumbled against him, not expecting the sudden shift off balance. This caused the two of them to be very, very close together, and as Jack met Davey’s eyes, he found himself suddenly nervous. Jack loved Davey more than anything, and as much as he missed how things used to be, he was terrified to try and regain any of it—what if he did something wrong, and made everything bad again? Or what if he did nothing, and Davey thought he didn’t want him anymore?

And then, Davey kissed him again.

Slowly, carefully, Jack slid his arms around Davey’s waist and kissed him back. Davey had his hands on Jack’s shoulders, and he moved one to cup his cheek, kissing him so sweetly and gently Jack could have fucking died. Mindful of matching Davey’s pace and intensity, Jack gently pulled him closer, desperate for more, for this, for  _ him _ . He couldn’t feel an ounce of tension in Davey’s body, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

Still, Davey kissed him slowly, taking Jack’s lead and pressing closer. One arm securely around Davey’s waist, Jack’s other hand wandered upwards to gently tangle in Davey’s hair at the nape of his neck as he tilted his head to just slightly deepen the kiss.

Suddenly, Davey’s whole body went rigid and he jerked back. He grabbed Jack’s hand off the back of his head. “ _ Don’t _ .”

Jack recoiled, almost tripping backwards and yanking his hands away as if burned. “Shit, fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to push I—” he stammered frantically.

“Nonono.” Davey shook his head and grabbed Jack’s hands. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I—”

“I shouldn’t’a tried anything, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve—“

“This is my problem, not yours, and I need to deal with it instead of letting it hurt you—”

“I’ll be more careful, I promise, just tell me what I did wrong so I don’t—“

“Just don’t touch my hair!” Davey said a little loudly. He winced and brought his volume back down. “Please. I—I don’t like it anymore.”

Jack winced as well, and nodded. “Of course, I’m sorry, I won’t.”

“Thank you.” Davey looked at their hands and loosened his grip just a little. “I’m sorry. I realized it a while back, and I should have told you, I just didn’t think about it.”

Jack shook his head. “It’s your choice what you share and what you don’t.”

“How long can we go on like that, though?” Davey met his eyes again. “If we’re going to be together, if we’re going to be a team, we have to communicate. We have to be on the same page.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Jack’s mouth, and the fear that he had ruined everything began to properly quiet. “A team, huh?”

“Well, yeah,” Davey replied. “Aren’t we?”

“Well, no, we can’t be.” Jack smiled crookedly, wrinkling up his nose in not quite a smirk. “We don’t have a team name.”

“A team—” Davey choked on a laugh. “Okay, Captain. What’s our team name?”

Jack grinned like the enormous moron that he was. “I vote Team Pigeon.”

“That just sounds like we’re annoying and shit everywhere.”

Jack scoffed. “Are you suggesting that’s inaccurate?”

“Well, God, I hope so,” Davey laughed.

“Fine, what do  _ you _ think our team name should be?”

“I’ll think on it,” Davey said, smiling. He let go of Jack’s hands and pulled him into a loose hug instead, burying his face in his shoulder. “Thank you.”

Jack wrapped his arms securely around him, one around his waist and the other up over his back, with his hand resting at his shoulder. “What for?”

There was a pause, and it stretched on for so long, Jack started to wonder if Davey had even heard him.

“Understanding,” Davey said eventually.

Jack pressed his lips together tightly for a moment before answering, very carefully steering away from that alley of memories and thoughts. “Of course,” he said quietly, holding Davey just a little bit tighter.

Jack felt rather than saw Davey smile against his shoulder. “I’m so lucky I met you,” he murmured. “Now call me a dumb fuck, I dare you.”

Jack burst into laughter. “Alright, if that’s what you want, you dumb fuck.”

Davey shoved away from Jack, grinning, any and all unpleasantries forgotten for the time being. “ _ Rude! _ ”

Jack gasped, flailing slightly. “No, wait—that’s our team name!”

“Team Dumbfucks?” Davey deadpanned.

“Team Dumbfucks!” Jack cocked his head to the side, frowning. “Though that might have to go to Race and Spot...”

* * *

The evening wore on. Around ten, Crutchie texted to let Jack know that Lauren’s roommate was out and he would be keeping her company for the night, so Jack and Davey settled down on the couch for another movie.

Two-thirds of the way through The Gunslinger, which Davey agreed was totally Jack’s aesthetic but still believed was a terrible movie, Davey yawned and laid his head down on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m tired. I should go soon.”

Jack rested his cheek on the top of Davey’s head and pawed blindly for a moment till he found Davey’s hand and intertwined their fingers together. “Stay with me?”

“You mean tonight or in general?”

Jack smiled. “I meant right now, but both is good.”

Davey smiled softly. “I think I can manage that.”

The two fell into comfortable silence, just happy to be together. By the time the movie was over, Davey had to be gently nudged awake, and they made their way sleepily into the bedroom and tumbled into Jack’s bed.

Jack rolled towards Davey and didn’t even have a chance to ask before Davey cuddled up against him. Happily wrapped in Jack’s arms, he was asleep almost right away. Jack, on the other hand, was having trouble quieting the unpleasant thoughts that had begun swimming around in his head in the dark and the quiet.

It wasn’t that he’d been in denial. He knew and understood what had happened to Davey, but it had all been in a sort of abstract, not really solid way. The concept was there, but there weren’t any details—thank god. But now there was a definite. Even though it was a small, not fully fleshed out detail, now Jack knew that Davey didn’t like his hair touched anymore, because of something they did to him. He’d been trying so hard to keep everything vague and not properly think about what had happened, but now, having even such a small tidbit of understanding and clarity thrust upon him, Jack couldn’t keep the thoughts reined in. 

He held onto Davey tighter as tears began to push at the backs of his eyes. Davey...he must have been so scared...Jack pressed his lips together tightly, blinking hard as he tried to push back the onslaught of sorrow and rage that was threatening to tear his ribcage right open. He had been  _ hurt _ , and Jack wasn’t there to stop it. Jack wasn’t there to protect him or to help him. He pulled Davey closer, pressing up against his back and burying his face in the crook of his neck as tears began to stream down his face. He’d been alone, he’d been hurt, he’d been wronged in a way no one ever should be, and Jack couldn’t do anything about it. Davey,  _ his _ Davey, had needed him, called out to him for help, and he wasn’t there. He couldn’t get to him.

Shaking with silent sobs, Jack held Davey as tight as he could, desperate to put both of their broken pieces back together.


	49. Shennanygans Chapter Three: Jack Is Dehydrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Jackson go toe to toe, and afterwards, Jack needs a pep talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, bitches!!!

Saturday morning was quiet. Somehow, even Mei was asleep, so Jack had the empty house to himself for the time being. This serenity only lasted until about eleven o’clock, and then everything descended into the usual chaos. Mei, as it turned out, had woken up some time before and spent the morning quietly and meticulously trashing her room, Chris and Jackson got to yelling at each other over some video game within half an hour of waking up, and Catalina soiled her diaper with approximately her weight in excrement. Well, when it rains it pours.

By the time Jack managed to get Catalina cleaned up and the girls’ room back in some semblance of order, it was well past noon, which meant lunch time. Mei had followed Jack into the kitchen when he went to prepare Catalina’s formula and was happily yelling, “Gwill me cheese!” as she toddled after him.

“Will you grill me a cheese, too?” Chris called from the den. He paused briefly, then called, “Jack also wants one.”

A sense of dread flooded through Jack. “Yeah sure,” he called back, looking apprehensively towards the stove. You’d think, after working in a diner, Jack would be well at ease in a kitchen. He managed fine at the restaurant, but somehow, left to his own devices, he still wasn’t a good cook. He heard Crutchie’s voice in the back of his mind.  _ It’s just a grilled cheese, Jack. How did you survive to adulthood?  _ Muttering to himself about ‘cereal’ and ‘perfectly healthy’, Jack pulled out his phone and googled ‘grilled cheese’.

Okay, so it was really simple; just butter some bread, put it in a pan, slap some cheese in the middle, and you’re fine. Easy.

His first attempt burned before the cheese would melt. So did his second, as well as his third. On the fourth try, he got one side nice and golden brown, and the other turned out rather like a charcoal briquette.

Jackson had been standing in the door watching the fiasco for some time now, which made everything worse, and Mei was now crying. Having finished scraping the most recent disaster out of the pan and into the trash, Jack paused his efforts to comfort Mei.

“I know, I’d cry too if I had to eat my food.”

“Why did Mom hire you to take care of us if you can’t even make a grilled cheese?” Jackson asked with the bite force of a saltwater crocodile.

Jack turned over his shoulder to look at him. “Because I’m very charming.” The attempt at a joke was met with stone-faced silence, and Jack bit back a sigh. “Believe it or not, I’m pretty good at taking care of people, so long as it don’t involve cooking.”

“No, you’re not.”

Jack’s face dropped deadpan, refusing to acknowledge the sting those words carried, and he shrugged. “No trips to the hospital so far, an’ the house hasn’t burned down. I think that counts as at least baseline.”

Jackson huffed and grumbled, “I don’t need a fuckin’ babysitter.”

“Well good thing I’m not a babysitter.” He started to turn back to put the now calmer Mei down, but paused and frowned at Jackson. “Does your mom let you swear?”

“Yeah.”

“No, she doesn’t!” Chris called from the other room.

“Thanks, Chris!” he called back, turning most of his attention back to the stove.

Jackson stammered angrily. “You’re not my dad!” He took a couple more steps into the kitchen. “You can’t tell me what to do!”

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t tell you to do anything, but also your mother is literally paying me to tell you what to do.” He frowned slightly. “Or what not to do?” He shrugged. “Either way, y’probably shouldn’t swear.”

“Fuck you,” the kid sneered. “Mom’s paying you to  _ protect us _ , and you suck at it.”

Jack frowned and turned to face Jackson again, bracing his hands on the edge of the counter and leaning his weight against them. “Okay kid, I get that you don’t like me. I’m not your dad, I’m not your family, not your friend, I’m unwelcome. I get it. But your mother has hired me to take care of you four, and that’s what I’ll continue to do. I might suck at cooking, but that don’t cover the whole thing.”

Jackson glared back at him, lips pressed together tight. God, there was so much anger in that small person; it was heartbreaking. He swallowed hard, turned on a dime, and ran off towards the stairs.

Jack let a heavy breath out slowly, wondering what had happened that made him so mistrusting and so angry. His mind flicked through old experiences in foster homes, and he cringed. Yeah, there was more than enough shit in the system to ruin anyone. He knew what it was like to be angry, to not trust anything or anyone, and although what had fixed it for him—Crutchie—wasn’t exactly available to the general public, he hoped that, as time went on, Jackson would open up enough that Jack could help him, even a little bit.

* * *

“I get why he hates me, I just don’t know how to fix it,” Jack lamented.

He was flopped on his back across Davey’s bed, with his head in Davey’s lap as Davey sat up against the wall. Spot was out with Race, which meant he probably wouldn’t be back till morning, and Jack had requested a sleepover.

Davey smiled down at him gently. “Jacky, I love you, and I think it’s so sweet the way you take care of people, but you can’t fix everything.”

“Yeah, well, I should,” Jack grumbled.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Davey said. “You do so much more than you should.”

Jack sighed, reaching to find Davey’s hand. “A kid I’m supposed to take care of thinks I’m evil.”

“He’s a kid, Jack.”

“I know, most kids like me.” He pouted.

Davey chuckled. “Must be hard for you. You don’t encounter folks who don’t like you often.”

“Exactly! I’m irresistible,” Jack teased, beaming up at Davey.

Davey prayed his smile didn’t look as cringey as it felt. That was true, which was great for Jack and very stressful for his insecure boyfriend.

“And thank god for that,” Jack continued. “No way I woulda landed you, if it was normal rules.”

“Not true,” Davey shot back.

“Shut up, you’re amazing.” Jack sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair before continuing. “I just don’t know what to do about it. The others like me, but Jack’s just...mad.”

Davey hummed in thought. “Do the kids know you were in foster care?”

Jack opened his mouth, and then paused, frowning. “They don’t...unless Medda told them.”

“Maybe if they knew that you understand...” Davey suggested.

Jack nodded. “That’s a really good idea.”

“I know,” Davey snickered.

Jack wrinkled his nose up in half a grin. “What,  _ my _ boyfriend having a good idea? Shocking.”

“It’s more likely than you think.”

Jack chuckled, lifting Davey’s hand to press a kiss into his palm. “What would I do without you?”

“Have a very simple, peaceful life, I’m sure,” Davey said, shifting so Jack would sit up and he could look at him properly.

Jack smiled that beautiful, crooked smile of his. “I wouldn’t want it, though.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Davey placed a hand on the side of Jack’s face and kissed him gently. “You’re doing a great thing for that family. If anyone can help those kids, it’s you.”

Jack sighed gently. “I can try, at least.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Davey said, brushing his thumb over Jack’s cheek. How could he make this amazing person see just how amazing he was?

Jack shrugged, clearly deflecting, and gently took Davey’s hand to press a short kiss against his knuckles. Davey smiled a little sadly. He could tell the kid, Jackson, had really gotten to Jack somehow, and he didn’t know how to make him feel better.

“Sooo is there a reason you made me sit up, or...?”

Davey rolled his eyes and guided Jack back down into his lap. “You’re like a cat.”

“I am not!” Jack replied indignantly, depositing Davey’s hand on his head, and Davey obediently started scratching.

“Yes, you are.”

“Am not,” he huffed, wiggling around to get comfortable.

Davey snickered, grinning down at his stupid boy. “Just a big kitty,” he teased.

“You’re lucky you’re tall.” Jack glared at him good naturedly.

“Why?”

He batted up at him. “Cause I can’t reach your dumb face.”

“You most definitely can,” Davey said, proving his point by taking one of Jack’s hands and touching it to his face. “And I thought you liked my face.”

Jack moved his hand directly into the middle of Davey’s face and left it there. “Well yeah, it’s my favorite face. Doesn’t mean it’s not dumb though.”

Davey proceeded to lick Jack’s hand. Jack wailed in protest, jerking his hand away and cradling it against his chest like a wounded bird, staring up at Davey in horror.

Davey laughed. “You’re mine, now. I licked you, so you’re mine.”

Jack was wiping his hand off against his shirt, much more than necessary, and he looked up at Davey quizzically. “Is that how that works?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then.” He sat up quickly and licked the side of Davey’s face, much like an overeager labrador.

Davey yelped and shoved him off, laughing. He cleaned his face with the back of his hand and frowned. “Your saliva is too viscous. You need to drink more water.”

Jack burst into laughter. “You’re such a  _ nerd! _ ”

“And you’re dehydrated!”

“No I’m not! I had coffee!”

“You need  _ water _ .” Davey stood up and snatched his water bottle off his desk. “I’ll be right back.” He made a quick trip to the water fountain down the hall and returned a minute later. “Here.”

Jack was laughing again. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re still dehydrated.” Davey handed him the now full water bottle. “Sorry, it has my germs.”

Jack rolled his eyes and smiled at him as he accepted the bottle. “Shit, you’d make a better nanny than me, any day.” Even though he was still smiling, the playful light in Jack’s eyes had disappeared.

“That’s not true,” Davey said softly, reaching out to him. “I’ve seen you with the baby, Catalina; just the way you look at her—”

Jack gave a halfhearted chuckle. “Likin’ someone don’t mean you’re good for them. ‘Sides, you’re biased.”

“Liking someone doesn’t...” The space between them suddenly felt very wide. Davey knew Jack wasn’t just talking about the kids, and he felt very much like he’d just been shoved forcefully away. “No, Jack,” he snapped. “We’re over that.”

Jack looked up at him, startled. “What?”

“You and me?” Davey gestured between them. “We’re over that—the questions and the insecurities. We’re a team, remember? That’s done.”

Jack started a few different sentences, but none of them made it past the first syllable. He pushed his fingers through his hair and let out a huffy breath, caught somewhere between frustrated and guilty.

“Hey...” Davey reached for him again.

Jack caught his hand, looking up to meet his eyes again. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been thinking—...”

“Thinking what?”

He pressed his lips together for a moment before slightly shaking his head. “Never mind; it don’t matter. Point is you’re right and I’m dumb—so business as usual.” He smiled, but it was clearly a bit strained.

“Jacky...” Davey couldn’t help but be a little hurt that Jack wasn’t trusting him.

Jack reached for Davey’s other hand, gently pulling him closer. “I’s nothing, I just need to get a grip,” he assured him.

At least they agreed on something. Davey nodded reluctantly.

Jack brought one of Davey’s hands up to his mouth, brushing a gentle kiss across his knuckles. “I’m sorry,”

“I just—” Davey exhaled softly as whatever he’d meant to say dissipated in his throat. “I love you so much.”

Jack smiled gently, a little apologetically. “I love you too, Dave.”

Davey made himself smile back. “You’re still dehydrated.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story time: A few months ago, I offered a spit-handshake to my darling Jewish roommate, not expecting her to take me up on it. She did, looked at her palm, then looked back up at me and said, "Your saliva is too viscous. You need to drink more water," and proceeded to make me drink water. I knew in that moment that somehow, someway, that was going in a fanfiction, and here it is. Happy Hanukkah.


	50. Davey's Just Here to Help Francis Make Grilled Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack calls in reinforcements...with Medda's permission, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we've written 50 chapters of this mess.

After another day of Jackson being generally difficult and hateful, Jack had asked Medda if he could talk to her just quick before heading home. They went into the office, and Jack felt weirdly formal for such a simple conversation.

“As I’m sure Jack’s told you, I’m not the best when it comes to cooking.”

Medda chuckled. “Yes, he told me all about the loaf of bread’s worth of burnt grilled cheeses.”

Jack winced theatrically. “Yeah, it was rough.”

“Is this what you wanted to talk about? Because a loaf of bread is hardly a serious matter.”

“No, no,” Jack chuckled. “I was going to ask what you’d think of Davey—‘s my boyfriend—helping sometimes? He’s a much better cook than I am.”

Medda pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, I’d certainly want to meet him, first.”

Jack nodded. “Oh yeah, of course. Don’t worry, he’s a lot more appealing than I am.”

“Then I suppose we can work out a time and I can do just that.” Medda smiled. “Is there anything else you needed, honey? I hope Jack isn’t giving you too much trouble.”

“Oh, we’re doin’ just fine,” Jack replied smoothly. “I think I got him about a quarter convinced that I’m not evil, at this point.”

Medda’s smile became less polite, more sympathetic. “That boy’s a mystery. Don’t beat yourself up over it. He’ll come around.”

Jack shrugged. “I remember being that age. I was angry too.”

‘ _ Was _ ’.

“Yes, well,” Medda sighed lightly, “I’ll be in touch with you about meeting...?”

“David,” Jack provided, smiling.

“David,” Medda repeated. “Thank you for everything, Jack.”

* * *

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re amazing,” Jack assured Davey, walking hand in hand up the long, private drive lined with big, fancy houses.

“Jackson doesn’t even like you, and you’re way more charming than me,” Davey grumbled. “At least I’m not wearing glasses, anymore.”

“Well yeah, I’m a masterpiece. Yours is all natural though; you don’t even gotta try!” Jack bumped his hip sideways against Davey’s.

Davey grimaced. “They’re gonna hate me.”

“No, they’re not.” Jack pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “If they can stand me, they’ll love you.”

They started up the driveway, and for the millionth time, Davey questioned, “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I am,” Jack squeezed his hand reassuringly, “but if you’re really not comfortable, I ain’t gonna push.”

Davey sighed. “I’m fine. I just...don’t want to mess this up for you.”

Jack smiled sympathetically. This sweet boy—he was incredible, and Jack only wished he could see it.

“Everything’s gonna be great, I promise.”

They reached the door, and Jack knocked. Medda opened the door a few moments later with Catalina in one arm.

“Hi, Jack.” She smiled warmly. “And you must be David.”

Davey nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Medda waved him off. “Didn’t Jack tell you? None of this ‘ma’am’ business. Just call me Medda. Come on in.”

Jack stepped in after Davey, and a small smile tugged at the edge of his mouth as Davey looked around the foyer appreciatively.

Shifting the baby on her hip, Medda introduced her youngest. “This is Catalina.”

Finally, Davey broke into a genuine smile. “Yes, I believe I’ve met this one on video chat. She’s beautiful.”

Medda smiled again. “Well, thank you. I’d say she gets it from me, but...” She laughed.

There was a pterodactyl-esque screech and a blur of blue and black, and suddenly Mei was attached to Jack’s legs, grinning up at him and giggling. Jack yelped, once again nearly knocked over by her standard greeting. She always changed her timing, and thus managed to catch him by surprise every time.

Chris and Jackson trailed in from the den after her and came to stand next to their mother, and Jackson gave Davey a funny look. Davey glanced nervously at Jack.

“Boys, this is David,” Medda said, nodding towards him.

Chris tilted his head up momentarily in greeting. “Hi.”

“This is Chris,” Medda gestured to him. “And this is Jackson.”

“He goes by Jack,” Chris pointed out.

Jackson shrugged. “He can call me Jackson, if he wants.”

Jack looked at him, wide eyed in surprise, but the younger boy didn’t seem to even register his attention. Mei was still trying to climb Jack’s legs, so he stooped to lift her up and set her on his hip with an arm secured around her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Davey told the boys before turning to Mei. “You, too.”

She giggled and shyly tucked herself closer to Jack, getting a handful of the side of his shirt.

Medda chuckled fondly at her daughter. “Well, the kids wanted to order Chinese food. I told them we’d wait and see what you said.”

“Fine with me,” Jack said, before ducking closer to Mei and loudly whispering. “Don’t worry, he’s nicer than I am.”

Medda retrieved a menu from the kitchen and took everyone’s food orders, making it  _ very _ clear that she was paying for dinner and Jack and Davey were not to mention it.

It didn’t take long for Mei to notice that Davey was taller than Jack, and once she realized this, she started kicking and wiggling, demanding to be set down. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she zipped over and grabbed ahold of the side of Davey’s pants, as high up as she could reach, and tugged, much as if ringing a bell-pull.

Davey blinked down at her awkwardly. “Um, hi.”

She raised her arms up towards him and very politely asked. “May I go up, please?”

Davey actually looked a little startled at that. “She talks... _ really _ well,” he said, carefully reaching down to pick her up.

Mei was happily wiggling and cooing as soon as she was in the air, and Medda looked quite pleased by Davey’s compliment.

“She’ll be three in July,” she said. “She has trouble with her Rs—”

“ _ I’m two! _ ” Mei shouted like a small, excitable foghorn, and Davey jumped a little.

Jack laughed lightly, and Chris smiled fondly at his little sister.

“Her grammar is better than mine,” Jack said, grinning.

Jackson snickered at that, and Medda shot him a quelling look.

“So, David,” she began, leading the entourage towards the living room, “are you also a student?”

Davey naturally shifted Mei into a more comfortable position on his hip, like someone who was very accustomed to carrying toddlers, which Jack was not under the impression that he was. “Yes, I’m a sophomore at NYU,” he answered, trailing close behind Medda.

Watching this quietly, Jack was suddenly assaulted by a flurry of thoughts exploring what a future with Davey Jacobs could be. If he actually managed to pull this off and keep Davey, what would life be like for them? Would they live together? Get a house? Get married? Have kids? For most of Jack’s life, this avenue of thought had been solidly closed—no firm future, certainly not such deep commitment—but now, with Davey, everything was different.

Mei snuggled up to Davey’s shoulder, and he laid a hand on her back, and it was so precious Jack could cry. He pressed his lips together in an effort to keep the ridiculous smile off his face, and tuned back into the conversation.

Medda has been in the middle of a question. “—experience with kids?”

“Well, I have a little brother,” Davey answered, “but that’s about it.”

She nodded, and opened her mouth for another question but was interrupted by Jackson.

“So wait, are you replacing Francis?”

Jack choked, holding back a laugh. Fucking ‘Francis’.

“No, I—” Jack watched as dear Davey tried so hard to keep it together. “I’m just here to help Francis make grilled cheese.” Davey had to put a hand over his mouth to stop the laughter.

Jack, however, completely lost it, and sputtered into laughter. Davey looked back at him, and there were tears in his eyes from trying so hard not to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Jack choked out, trying to get a handle on himself. “I’m sorry, that was a very serious and reasonable question.” Another short burst of laughter. “Sorry, ignore me, please continue.”

Jackson glared at him, but Medda chuckled good naturedly. “You did say they could call you something different.”

“I did, and it’s totally fine,” Jack finally managed to rein it in, still grinning. “No one’s fault my name is completely ridiculous.”

Jackson turned to Davey. “What’s your middle name?”

A small smile appeared on Davey’s lips. “Ari. What’s yours?”

“Michael.”

Jack watched this exchange in mild puzzlement. Jackson had asked that without a trace of malicious intent in his voice, like he was actually curious. This was way more amiability than Jack had seen from him before.

When the group reached the living room, Davey took a seat on the couch with Mei in his lap, and Jackson sat next to him. Medda asked Davey a few more questions, but it was more of just a friendly conversation than an interview. After a few minutes, Chris wandered out of the room, but unlike when Jack had first arrived, Jackson stayed and actually seemed interested in the conversation. This proved, as Jack had expected, that Davey was a good fit, and they would like him. Less pleasantly, it confirmed Jack’s suspicion that Jackson’s distrust and anger was, in fact, specifically aimed at him. Jackson was actually  _ smiling _ at Davey. Jack had never even seen the kid smile, before.

“So, how long has this been a thing?” Medda gestured between Jack and Davey.

A warm smile pushed its way onto Jack’s face as he turned his eyes to Davey. “Around three months now.”

“You make a cute couple.”

Jack thanked her, still paying more attention to his beautiful boyfriend with an adorable toddler in his lap than anything else.

Mei proceeded to stand up on Davey’s lap and put her hands on his face. Davey flinched a little and blinked owlishly at her. Then she giggled, and he smiled.

In this moment, Jack realized that, other than himself, Mei was the first person to touch Davey since everything happened, and suddenly Jack was very concerned. Was Davey okay, or was he actually freaking out but trying to be polite? Jack automatically shifted a bit closer, though he wasn’t on the couch with him.

* * *

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Davey Jacobs was not confident in his people skills. That being said, he felt a lot better leaving the Larkin household than he had entering.

“They’re sweet kids,” he said to Jack as the two made their way back to the bus stop in the dark.

Jack smirked, offering his open hand to Davey. “I told you they’d like you.”

Davey laced their fingers together and took a step closer to Jack. “You did.”

Jack lifted their joined hands, pressing a brief kiss to the back of Davey’s hand. “What did  _ you _ think?”

“Like I said, they’re sweet kids.” Davey let out a breathy laugh. “Mei’s like a little monkey.”

Jack laughed lightly. “Yeah, one of her favorite games now is sitting on my shoulders and steering me with my hair.”

“Cute,” Davey said, even if he cringed a little, grateful that she hadn’t tried that.

“She’s very polite though,” Jack assured him. “She listens if you tell her ‘no’.”

Davey cringed harder. “Well, that’s...loaded.”

Jack frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Davey sighed. He was tired of being treated like he was breakable. He was tired of  _ being _ breakable. He forced himself to smile. “I couldn’t have told her ‘no’, anyway. She’s too dang cute.”

Jack offered a crooked smile that was edged with concern. “Yeah, she’s pretty cute...”

Davey looked away. He didn’t know how to articulate his feelings without coming across as antagonistic, and he didn’t want to fight with Jack, but he couldn’t stand being pitied any longer.

Jack, however, seemed caught up in his own thoughts. When Davey looked back at him, we was doing ‘that thing with his eyes when he’s thinking’, and he looked less than pleased with whatever he was pondering.

“What? What is it?” Davey asked, hoping his voice wasn’t tinged with residual frustration from his own thoughts.

Jack glanced up at him quickly, then shook his head. “Nothing; it's silly.”

“Not if it’s bothering you, it’s not,” Davey pressed. He squeezed Jack’s hand. “Come on, tell me?”

Jack pressed his mouth into a dismissive and mildly embarrassed squiggle. “You’ll laugh.”

“Is this about the kids calling you Francis? Because that’s—”

Jack laughed. “No, that’s fucking hilarious.”

“Then what is it?”

Jack let out a huffy breath. “Well, Jackson likes you.”

“Wh—” Jack was right; Davey did laugh. “Of course he does; he’s just like you.”

“What? He is not!” Jack replied, indignant.

“He so is!” Davey argued. “He’s headstrong and passionate, and he puts on this ‘Mr. Tough Guy’ act, but he’s thoughtful,” Davey grinned, “and he likes me.”

Jack spluttered wordlessly, having no real retort.

“Exactly,” Davey replied smugly. He leaned in and kissed Jack’s cheek. “No wonder you two don’t get along. I don’t think I’d get along with a mini-me, either.”

“He’s not my mini-me,” Jack grumbled sourly.

Davey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I’m not Jewish.”

Jack huffed, straight up pouting now.

“I love you,” Davey cooed, letting go of his hand to put his arm around his shoulders instead.

Jack grumbled, “‘M glad someone does.”

“Hey, don’t be like that.” Davey pressed a kiss to his temple.

Jack smiled begrudgingly. “I love you too, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Davey kissed him again, tightening his arm around his shoulder.

Jack smiled properly now, sliding his arm around Davey’s waist so the two were well and locked together. “I know it’s different, ‘cause we’re gonna be working, but I’m glad that I’ll get to see you on weekends now.”

“Me too,” Davey said, now unable to look away. Jack’s smile was going to be the death of him, and what a way to go. “You make me so damn happy.”

He hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud, but Jack’s reaction made it worth it. If it was possible, Jack’s smile brightened even more, and he quirked his eyebrows in amusement.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You don’t have to.”

Jack chuckled. “Baby, we really gotta talk about your standards,” he teased.

“My standards are ruined, and it’s all your fault,” Davey teased back. He leaned his head against Jack’s and sighed contentedly. “I’m going to have to keep you.”

Jack hummed, considering the idea. “I think I can work with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe you've read 50 chapters of this mess.


	51. Jack’s an Idiot, but This Time It’s in an Olive Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some useless fluff, because you deserve it. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it came up in the comments on the last chapter, I thought y'all might like to know: We are 21 year old college students. I described the taste of poorly mixed, college party vodka lemonade from experience. 0/10.

Thursday sucked. Davey had been busy all day with his own classes, and when Jack got to class in the afternoon, he found out that there was a paper due that he had entirely forgotten about. On his way home, he nearly got hit by some dumbass as he was crossing the road—it wasn’t even a campus vehicle, so no free tuition if he  _ had _ been hit—and when he got to the door, he dropped his keys. Jack groaned, hitting his forehead against the door for a moment before he stooped down to pick them up.

Once inside, he dropped his keys in the bowl on the ledge of the half wall and slid his bookbag across the floor towards the couch on his way into the kitchen, in search of something easy for dinner. They had the dregs of some Life cereal, but upon checking the fridge, their milk was spoiled. Jack sighed. Crutchie would be home soon, and he would probably being able to make something out of the various ingredients they had lying around. Jack wandered over to the couch, hoping Crutchie would come home before he wasted away into nothing, and flopped down to absently flick through channels on TV. He had finally settled on a nature documentary that was more lizard porn than anything else when the front door opened and Crutchie stepped inside.

“What are you and Davey doing tonight?” Crutchie called into the living room.

Jack looked over at him, bemused. “Uhh, nothing. Why?”

“Wrong. We’re double dating.”

Jack blinked, then smiled. “I’ll call him,” He pulled his phone out and promptly dropped it—why did all the little things always go wrong when you were having a bad day? Grumbling quietly to himself, he picked it up, tapped in his password—got it wrong three times, somehow—and hit Davey’s contact.

“Hi, Jack,” Davey answered.

Jack could hear a smile in his voice, and he immediately had one to match. “Get pretty, Crutchie asked you out.”

Davey laughed. “What?”

“Okay, technically he asked  _ us _ out, but you still gotta get pretty.”

“And here I thought I was  _ always _ pretty,” Davey teased. “Is Lauren coming, too?”

“I would assume she is, and that’s exactly why you gotta get pretty.” Jack explained, grinning. “Gotta step it up so we’re cuter than they are.”

Crutchie scoffed, “Good luck!”

Jack put his hand over the phone, not at all actually blocking the sound, and looked to Crutchie. “Shut up. Davey’s got you guys beat by a mile, he’s just gotta work to counteract my ugly mug.”

“Shut up,” Davey groaned. “Where are we meeting and at what time?”

“That is a very good question.” Jack again moved the phone away from his mouth. “Ey, Crutchie, where we goin’?”

Crutchie shrugged. “You want Italian food?”

* * *

“Race would lose his shit if he knew we went to Olive Garden for Italian food,” Jack said, looking at the laminated menu. Why did every restaurant do their menu differently? Trifold, single sheet, double sheet, book fold, why not just one kind?

“What Race doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Crutchie quipped. “I want breadsticks.”

“I dunno, there was that time Henry tried to throw the remote at Sniper and hit Race in the ear. He didn’t know, and that sure hurt him,” Jack snickered.

Lauren giggled, and Crutchie smiled at her. Jack, only occasionally very observant, noticed this, and smiled as well. He could see by the way Crutchie’s eyes softened when he looked at her that he heard Lauren’s laugh the way Jack heard Davey’s—different than anyone else’s, sweeter, better.

“He’s making that up, you know,” Lauren said shyly. “He suggested Olive Garden because I like it.”

“Baaabe, don’t tell them all my secrets!” Crutchie whined.

“He’s making up that he wants breadsticks?” Jack asked incredulously.

“He probably wants breadsticks, too, love,” Davey said quietly. “No one lies about breadsticks.”

Jack nodded. “A sacred subject, to be sure.”

“Okay, but can we talk about this one stealing my job?” Crutchie nudged Lauren with his shoulder. “Dr. Myers asked her to TA freshman biology in the fall instead of me.” He pouted, but Jack could see in his eyes that he was really beaming.

Davey, of course, was enthralled with her academic achievement. “Lauren, that’s great!”

“Oh shit nice,” Jack murmured the same time, still smiling. Despite them having been together for about a month now, Lauren and Crutchie mostly hung out at Lauren’s place or out somewhere, so this was really the first time Jack had seen them together for more than a few minutes, and he was delighted. Crutchie was completely stuck on her, and it was absolutely adorable.

Lauren blushed and rolled her eyes. “He taught me everything I know.”

“That is not true,” Crutchie shot back.

“Well, yeah, that’s why he has so little left,” Jack teased at the same time.

Crutchie gasped. “Rude!”

“And correct,” Jack replied, grinning. “See, there can’t be  _ two _ smart people in a relationship—throws off the power dynamic. That’s why me an’ Dave work so well.”

“I’m the brains, and he’s the pretty face,” Davey agreed.

Crutchie threw up his hands. “Well, I’m neither, and Laurie’s both.”

Lauren protested as Jack laughed, “At least you’re self aware.”

Crutchie flipped him off, using his menu as a shield to the rest of the restaurant.

Jack snickered and stuck his tongue out at him before turning his attention to Lauren. “So what are you majoring in, anyway? I know you’re smart and you do science, but I don’t think a Crutchie ever told me your major.”

“Well, when he does, will you let me know?” Lauren joked.

Jack laughed. “You’ll be the first to know.”

The waiter arrived to take their orders, halting the conversation for a couple minutes. As he took their menus, Lauren turned to Davey.

“David, what year are you?”

“I’m a sophomore,” Davey told her. “I just transferred from Berkeley, this semester.”

Lauren nodded. “That explains why I never saw you last fall, and suddenly you’re everywhere.”

“Yeah, I’m inevitable.”

“Kinda like herpes,” Jack snickered.

Crutchie facepalmed, and Lauren and Davey looked at Jack in confused horror and exasperation, respectively.

Jack winced. “I— Sorry, just tryin’a make a joke, sorry, forget it...” His voice dropped lower into noncommittal mumbles as he concluded his sentence.

“Is herpes...inevitable?” Lauren asked innocently.

“No,” Crutchie sighed, “it’s not.”

Jack chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry, that was dumb.”

Davey placed a hand on Jack’s knee and squeezed lightly, comfortingly. “You’re dumb,” he said, using the same tone of voice one might use to say ‘I love you.’

A small snort of laughter escaped from Crutchie as Jack beamed at Davey. “Aww, babe, I love you too.”

Davey shoved him with his shoulder and now Jack chuckled, rocking briefly to the side from impact. Straightening up again, he moved to rest his hand on Davey’s leg, pausing just before contact to shoot him a brief look of ‘is this okay?’ Davey nodded, and, with another smile, Jack relaxed and then looked up to say something to Crutchie, but stopped short as he and Lauren seemed to be having some secret conversation, both smiling that dumb smile you do when your partner says something cute. He bumped Davey’s knee with his own to get his attention, and jerked his head briefly at the two across the table, smiling almost proudly. Davey looked and smiled as well.

Crutchie and Lauren’s quiet conversation lasted a few seconds, then they faced forward to find Jack and Davey both smiling at them.

“Whaaat?” Crutchie asked, blushing slightly.

Jack’s smile quickly turned to a grin. “You’re cute.”

“Excuse you,” Crutchie huffed, “we’re adorable. Furthermore, you two don’t get to make fun of us, Mr. and Mr. True Love at First Sight.”

Davey laughed. “It wasn’t first sight!”

Jack huffed, amused. “Maybe it wasn’t for  _ you _ .”

“You can’t love someone at first sight,” Davey argued. “You just thought I was pretty.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’m shallow, sue me.”

“That doesn’t make you shallow,” Davey laughed. “It just means you didn’t love me, back then.”

Jack looked at Davey, and a small smile pulled at the edge of his mouth as he felt a warm bubble fill his chest. “Hard to believe I ever didn’t...”

“See!?” Crutchie all but shouted at Lauren, gesturing sharply across the table at Jack and Davey. “See what I mean?”

Jack startled and turned to Crutchie as his face scrunched in confusion. Lauren was trying and failing not to giggle, and a quick glance at Davey revealed that he was blushing furiously.

“What, what!?” Jack sputtered.

Crutchie shook his head fondly. “You’re such a romantic, Jack.”

“‘S not like you’re any better,” he accused Crutchie.

“Yes, I am,” Crutchie said.

“Yes, he is,” Davey said at the same time, “but I love you.”

Jack grumbled. “You see what I have to deal with?” he said to Lauren with a comically pained look.

“Well, I suppose if you don’t want me, I could just—”

“Don’t you dare.” Jack loosely slung his arms around Davey’s middle.

“The day Jack doesn’t want you is the day hell freezes over, pigs fly, and Race stops being a ho,” Crutchie told Davey, smiling.

“Honestly, the first two are more likely.”

Lauren frowned. “I don’t think I’ve met Race.”

“You haven’t,” Crutchie confirmed.

“Oh, you have to meet Race,” Davey said, and Crutchie very violently shook his head.

“I’m not trying to scare her off, just yet.”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, Race is basically if an air horn was a person.”

“So, like Chelsea,” Lauren supplied, grinning.

The whole table burst into laughter.

“Yeah, she's a lot, but I don’t think anyone can really match Race for sheer bullshit levels.” Jack chuckled. “Does Chelsea break into your room to cry on you about pretzels?”

“Can’t say she does,” Lauren says. “She does get green hair dye all over the bathroom, though.”

“One time,” Jack said, choking on laughter, “Al told me he found their bathtub all stained with dye, but Race’s hair was still blond...”

Davey looked over at him. “What happened?”

“We have no idea what he dyed, but we know it wasn’t the hair on his head.”

“Classic Race,” Crutchie said, nodding sagely.

“How’d he get the nickname?” Lauren asked. “Race, I mean.”

Jack chuckled. “He doesn’t like speed limits. I wouldn’t suggest ever asking him to drive you anywhere.”

“It’s a near-death experience, every time,” Crutchie agreed, nodding.

“One time, Race offered Crutchie a ride to come visit me when I was ins—” Jack locked up in horror as his brain caught up with the shit coming out of his mouth, and at almost the exact same time, Crutchie kicked his leg, staring at him wide eyed.

Jack cleared his throat roughly, mind scrambling as he sought a cover. “When I was on jury duty for this dumb trial that went on forever. You know how they make you stay in a hotel and stuff so other folks can’t make you ‘biased’ or whatever.” It was an incredibly weak lie, and he knew it, but he hadn’t left himself much room to work with. Being with Davey and Crutchie, Jack had let his guard down, and briefly forgot they had an audience.

Luckily, Crutchie—as ever—had his back and quickly picked up the story. “Yeah, we weren’t supposed to go see him, but we went anyway, and he snuck out. Almost didn’t make it there in one piece though, with Race driving.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Davey said, glancing at Jack with a comforting smile.

Jack smiled back tensely, forcing himself to physically relax, but remaining very close to Davey. Everything was fine; Lauren clearly hadn’t noticed the blunder—even if she had, she had no way of knowing what he had almost said—and Davey already knew. It was fine.

“Sounds like quite the adventure.” Lauren said brightly, and Jack nodded.

“Yeah, for sure.”

* * *

After dinner, surprising no one, Jack insisted on walking Davey back to his dorm, and Crutchie lovingly mocked him about ‘old fashioned manners’ and ‘courtship’ until they were out of earshot. Davey just smiled and rolled his eyes, but actually, he was grateful. New York City was plenty intimidating during the day. At night, it could be downright scary.

“You’ll get a cab on the way back to your apartment, right?” Davey asked. “I don’t like you walking home alone, either.”

Jack smiled. “It’s only a ten minute walk, hon.”

Davey huffed. “And? I’ll pay your cab fare. Come on, please?”

Anyone else could’ve easily missed the quick wince that crossed Jack’s face. “I’ll be fine, babe. It’s just two blocks off campus.”

Davey groaned. “You’d better be. I’ll lose my shit if you’re not.”

This brought a laugh out of Jack. “I’ve walked worse places.”

“I believe it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Jack smiled gently, offering Davey his hand. “It’s sweet that you worry, but y’don’t have to.”

Davey snorted. “Who’s the worrier in this relationship?” He accepted Jack’s hand, smiling.

“Exactly. I do the worrying, and you stand around and be pretty,” Jack teased.

“Oh, is  _ that _ my job?” Davey teased back. “I thought we agreed that I was the smart one and  _ you _ were the pretty one.”

Jack waved his free hand dismissively. “You should know better than to expect me to remember these things; I’m just a dumb artist.”

“No, you’re a  _ smart _ artist who  _ plays _ dumb so people don’t expect too much of you,” Davey said knowingly.

Jack shook his head, scrunching his face the way people do when they’re blatantly denying something very true. “Shshshsh,” he shushed Davey, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

Davey sighed happily. “Sometimes it’s annoying, how charming you are.”

Jack smirked that awful, twinkly smirk of his. “Oh I’m sorry, should I stop? I can stop.”

Davey leaned in and kissed the smirk off his face, and Jack stopped walking to respond, kissing back eagerly, but gently as his free hand came up to cup Davey’s cheek.

“I love you,” Davey said sweetly when they broke apart.

“Copy-cat,” Jack teased, smiling widely.

“Shut up.” Davey started walking again, pulling Jack along beside him. Something Jack said at dinner came back to him and sparked his curiosity all over again. “How did you meet Race?”

“Oh,” Jack seemed surprised by this question, and he hesitated a beat before answering. “His family fostered Crutchie for a bit.”

“I had just assumed you met him in college,” Davey explained, “but you said—...”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, they had Crutchie for about five months back when he an’ Race were both fourteen.”

Before he could think about why it might be a bad idea, Davey asked, “What was that like? I mean, being separated from your brother.”

Jack shrugged nonchalantly, but Davey could see his expression harden. “I mean, it wasn’t the first time, or the last.”

“But they didn’t keep him?”

A little flash of anger kicked up behind Jack’s eyes. “Yeah, they didn’t. They wanted to—well, Race and his ma did—but his dad is sort of the absolute worst.” A scowl settled across his face as he continued the story. “He’s the CEO of some big ass company; I don’t remember which one. All rich and a total dick, you know, the usual for that type.” Jack huffed unhappily. “Crutchie was a publicity stunt. ‘Oh, look at big Mr. Higgins, fostering a crippled orphan boy. What a good man’.”

Davey gritted his teeth. “But he’s not ‘a crippled orphan boy’, he’s  _ Charlie _ .”

“I know.” Jack nodded, still glaring at nothing. “Mrs. H and Racer loved him, of course, and wanted to adopt, but Mr. Higgins was done with him as soon as the press stopped.”

“That’s so fucked up,” Davey grumbled.

Jack grit his teeth and nodded again. “‘F I ever met the man I’d break his legs, see how he likes bein’ a crip an’ having to rely on the kindness of a world full of shit.”

“You haven’t met him?” Davey was surprised. If Race’s family had fostered Crutchie when he was fourteen, that was seven years of knowing Race and Jack never meeting his dad.

“It’s not like he was ever around for more than a few days at a time.” Jack shrugged.

“I can’t imagine living like that.” Davey shook his head. “Family is so important to my family. We couldn’t—...”

“That ain’t even the half of it,” Jack let out an angry chuckle, “but that’s Race’s shit to tell, not mine.”

Davey let out a low breath. He knew everyone had their trauma. Even so, hearing about his friends’ made him hurt. “Guess he turned out okay, considering.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s a good kid. Pretty sure it’s all outta spite.” Jack snickered.

“I like him. I hope he and Spot work things out.”

Jack sighed, glancing down at their joined hands. “Yeah, me too.”


	52. Tomato, Tomato (Pronounced Exactly the Same)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grilled cheese with a side of Sprace drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a happy and safe New Year’s!

“So,” Davey asked, “do you want me to teach you to make grilled cheese or just make the kids grilled cheeses?”

“I know how,” Jack grumbled, leaning against the kitchen island. “It just doesn’t work.”

“So you want me to make the kids grilled cheeses.”

“Gwill cheese!” Mei screamed in delight, attaching herself to Davey’s leg, and Jackson, who was sitting at the kitchen bar, chuckled.

Jack smiled at Mei before looking up at Davey again. “I mean that’s what Medda brought you on for,” he teased.

“That’s what  _ you _ brought me on for,” Davey corrected him, smirking lightly. “I’m not an employee; I’m your plus-one.”

Jack batted at him dismissively, well out of range. “Tomato, tomato,” he said, pronouncing them exactly the same.

Jackson snorted, and Davey sputtered into laughter at the same time.

Maybe he was just on his best behavior for Davey, but so far, Davey thought Jackson was a good kid—a great kid, actually. He was polite and funny and smiled a lot. It was hard to imagine him being as nasty as Jack described, but then again, it was clear that he didn’t like Jack, and Jack didn’t particularly like him.

Davey leaned sideways against the counter, across from Jack. “Do you want me to make the grilled cheeses or not?”

Jack rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Yes, dear, please and thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Francis.” Davey grinned and turned towards the stove, but called over his shoulder to Jackson, “Hey, Jack, what do you like on your grilled cheese?”

Jack groaned and rolled his upper body instead of his eyes, as Jackson smirked at him for a moment before answering Davey with a smile, “Ham and potato chips.”

Davey smiled back. “One grilled cheese with ham and potato chips coming up.” He turned to Jack. “Watch closely, padawan.”

Jack rolled his eyes yet again and pushed off the kitchen island to come over and lean against the counter next to the stove.

Davey set about describing the assembly of the sandwich in excruciating detail, much to Jackson’s delight. “Then, you place the ham on top of the cheese, so it will be between the slices of cheese when you put the two sides together.”

Jack closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wait wait wait, you put the ham where? This is too complex, you gotta slow down.”

“On top of the cheese, like so.” Davey picked the piece of ham up and set it back down very slowly. “Then, you do the same on the other side with the potato chips.”

Jack frowned. “Are you sure? That seems weird.”

“Yes. You can even put a slice of cheese in between the ham and the chips, if you like.”

“Well hot diggity gosh, doesn’t that just beat all?” Jack said in mock awe.

Davey snickered, adding another piece of cheddar cheese on top of the ham. “Do you think you can butter the pan for me, or is that too much too soon?”

“I dunno, man, that’s a pretty big ask,” Jack continued the bit as he moved to the fridge to grab the butter.

“But you’ll do it for me, right?”

“Obviously,” Jack scoffed. “Anything, remember?”

Davey smiled. “I remember.”

Jackson was watching this exchange with thinly veiled displeasure on his face. Jack, having retrieved the butter, returned to his place beside the stove and turned the burner on before dropping a pat of butter into the pan and tilting the pan around so the butter covered the bottom.

“Nice job,” Davey told him.

“Thank you. I tried very hard.”

Davey held the carefully constructed sandwich out to him. “Now carefully set this—”

“No!” Jackson groaned. “He’ll taint it!”

Jack sputtered for a second and burst into laughter, and Davey pushed him away from the stove. “Alright, you heard the man; this one’s on me.”

“A’right, a’right. I’ll move outta contamination range.” Jack backed away with his hands up in surrender, and moved around the kitchen island to the far side. Mei followed him, reaching for him to pick her up, and Jack caught her under her arms and swung her in a wide circle as she squealed and giggled before landing her on his hip. “So is the final step of a grilled cheese ‘eat it’?”

“Duh,” Jackson said.

Jack nodded sagely. “Makes sense.”

Davey shook his head fondly. Jack was looking at him with that tiny whisper of a smile that was more in his eyes than on his lips, and that, plus the toddler on his hip winding her hands into the shoulder of his T-shirt, very nearly knocked Davey over with the sudden flood of domestic possibilities.  _ This is nice. I like this. I could do this _ .

“Would you like a grilled cheese too, Francis?”

“I dunno, am I allowed?” Jack teased.

“Sure, but only after I’m done making them for the kids.” Davey lifted Jackson’s out of the pan with a spatula and flopped it onto a plate. “What does Mei like?” he asked as he made his way over to the bar to deliver it.

“Just plain,” Jackson told him, “but cut into triangles.”

“Got it.” He looked up at Jack as he made his way back to the stove. “Want to give it a try? I don’t think Mei minds your cooties.”

Jack pursed his lips, contemplating. “I dunno. I managed to ruin, like, six last time.”

“Come on. I’ll help you,” Davey said.

“Man, I’d love to, but my hands are full. I just can’t,” Jack said, gesturing towards Mei with his one very not full hand.

Davey just rolled his eyes and set about making Mei’s plain grilled cheese.

“Is he always this useless?” Jackson asked around a mouthful of his own sandwich.

“Yes,” Jack deadpanned before Davey could answer.

“No, you’re not,” Davey protested softly, glancing at Jack over his shoulder.

Jack tossed him a brief smile to show he was joking before returning his attention to Mei, who had started to very seriously explain a load of absolute nonsense to him. Satisfied for the time being that Jack’s surprisingly fragile self-esteem hadn’t been cracked, Davey turned back towards the stove and placed Mei’s sandwich in the pan.

“So, Jack,” he addressed, of course, Jackson, “Francis tells me you play football.”

Jackson nodded. “Yeah, quarterback.”

“That’s sort of like the captain, right?”

“Sort of. I call the plays and stuff.”

“Well, I don’t know much about sports,” Davey confessed, cringing. “I played soccer when I was a kid, but that’s about it.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” And so Jackson launched into a detailed and surprisingly patient explanation of football.

About three minutes in, Davey noticed that Jack was no longer talking with Mei, but rather watching the two of them with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Ja—” Davey caught himself. “Francis?”

“Yes, dear,” Jack replied quickly, and there was a smile on his face, but it only just reached his eyes.

Davey offered him a plate with Mei’s plain grilled cheese, cut into triangles. “This is probably cool enough, now.”

“Nice. Thanks.” Jack accepted the plate with his free hand before walking over to the windowed alcove off the kitchen that housed a round table and set of chairs. He set the plate down on the table before depositing Mei in a chair. He was so good with her, it made Davey’s heart hurt.

“What do you want on yours, love?” Davey called over to him.

There was that little smile again.

“Surprise me.”

Before Davey had a chance to reply, there was an ear splitting shriek from upstairs, and Catalina started loudly crying.

“Oop, that’s my cue.” Jack got up, assuring Mei he’d be right back, and headed for the stairs.

Davey narrowed his eyes, deep in thought as Jack disappeared into the entryway. “I’m gonna make him a peanut butter and jelly.”

* * *

Davey didn’t stay with Jack and the Larkin kids all day. It was as he said—he wasn’t an employee, so he headed out after lunch. It was such a beautiful day, he decided to walk back to campus instead of taking the bus, knowing full well it would take him a good amount of time. He had nothing else to do.

His mind kept drifting back to Jack with those kids. Somehow, after not even three months, Davey had come to the conclusion that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jack Kelly. So much had happened in those few weeks. They’d already seen each other at their bests and their worsts. Davey wasn’t sure if he believed in fate, but he sure as hell believed in Jack. He believed in Jack more than anything.

A while later, Davey made it back to his dorm with no trouble. He noted with a little amusement, as he always did, the place in the stairwell where he had fallen and busted his head—a blessing in disguise, as they say. He’d finally stopped walking past his and Spot’s room on pure muscle memory. Spot was usually out on Saturdays, so he wasn’t expecting any company when he swiped his card and stepped inside. The room was dark, and when Davey flicked the lights on he startled briefly as he saw he wasn’t alone. Spot was laying on his back diagonally across his bed, staring at the ceiling blankly.

“Spot, hey.” Davey walked over to his desk to set down his wallet and phone. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I...” Spot trailed off. It was very clear his mind was somewhere else, and judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t somewhere he liked.

Davey frowned. Spot was more open with him than with most, but he still wasn’t really a ‘feelings’ kind of guy, not even in front of Davey.

“Do you, um...want to talk about it? Whatever it is?”

Spot sat up. “You’re smarter than me; maybe you can figure it out.”

“Debatable,” Davey said, “but okay.”

“‘Pparently, Race fucked a guy in his Bio class.”

Davey’s eyes widened, and he blinked. “Recently?”

“Yesterday.”

Oh, shit. “Spot, I’m sorry. I...” What? What does one even say? “How did you find out?”

“He told me?” Spot said it like it was a question, even though it definitely wasn’t. “Not like he admitted it or it was some sorta confession or whateva. He just mentioned it, casually, like it was nothin’.”

Davey cringed sympathetically. Per Race and Spot’s arrangement, Race  _ technically _ hadn’t done anything wrong.

Spot turned sideways on his bed to place his feet on the floor and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and glaring at the ground. “An’ I know we ain’t anything real, but...”

“But your feelings are,” Davey finished for him.

Spot curled his lip in half a snarl, and it was a moment before he answered. “Yeah.”

“Spot...” Davey began, entirely unsure of where he was going. “Have you told him you want to be more than friends with benefits? Does he know?”

Spot snorted, unamused. “‘Course not.”

“Well, you should...” Davey faltered. Of course, Spot knew this. Why even say it? “...talk to him.”

Now Spot looked at him, and despite the agitation on his face, there was defeat in his eyes. “What good would that do? I knew what this was getting into it, and  _ clearly _ he doesn’t want anything else. I’m a distraction, that’s all.”

Davey sighed heavily and sat down in his desk chair. “The way I see it, you have three options,” he said. “You can do nothing and be miserable, you can talk to him and try to make something real out of this, or...you can let him go.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to say to him?” Spot snapped, but Davey knew his anger wasn’t directed at him. “‘Hey Race, y’know how you’re always saying we ain’t nothin’ more than fuck buddies, and you’re so in love with Albert? Well, what if we were, cause I’m a dumbass and caught feelings’.”

Davey noticed he didn’t mention the other options. “I don’t know! I’ve never done this before.”

With a rough exhale, Spot flopped back onto his bed again, leaving his legs hanging off the side. “It’s dumb. I should just drop it.”

Davey raised his eyebrows. “Can you?”

There was a long pause. Then, very quietly, “I don’t know...”

Davey stood up and walked over to sit on the bed next to him. “Listen, Spot...what you and Race have going on right now—it’s toxic as hell for both of you.”

“I know that.” Spot muttered, glaring at the ceiling again.

Davey placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then, if you actually give a shit about Race,” he said seriously, “do something about it.”

Spot looked at Davey now. “What would you do?”

Davey frowned. “What do you mean?”

“‘F it was you an’ Jack. If he slept with someone else. What would you do?”

Ah, yes, the dreaded question. Even the hypothetical thought of Jack sleeping with someone else while they were together made Davey sick to his stomach.

“It would be different,” he responded. “Jack and I are exclusive. He would be cheating on me.”

Spot grumbled, “Yeah, sure, but what if you weren’t?”

Davey tried to no avail to swallow the acidic taste in his throat. “Well...if Jack and I were friends with benefits, and I wanted to be more than that, I guess I would tell him and...and hope he feels the same way.”

Spot groaned loudly and rolled over onto his stomach. “You’re no help.”

“And you’re stubborn,” Davey huffed, standing up and retreating to his side of the room.

“What am I even supposed to say to him?” Spot asked, rolling over and sitting up again.

Davey tossed his hands up in exasperation as he sat down on his own bed. “I don’t know. Ask him out?”

Spot looked away—wait, was he  _ blushing? _ “I’ve...actually never done that before,” he muttered, looking at the floor.

“What—asked someone out?”

He nodded.

Davey found that somewhat hard to believe. “You’ve never had a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“What? No, I’ve had relationships. I just never asked someone out, it just sorta happened.”

“Ah.” Davey nodded. “I see.” He didn’t, really. “Well, the bad news is that I haven’t either? I mean, Jack’s my first boyfriend, and  _ he _ asked  _ me _ out, so...”

“Well, how did he do it?” Spot asked.

Davey chuckled dryly. “You know the story. He and Crutchie made a bet on me, and he walked up to me in the dining hall and asked for my number.”

“That’s gettin’ your number, that ain’t askin’ you out,” Spot pointed out.

“And a few days later, he texted me and asked if I wanted to go to lunch,” Davey added. “It doesn’t have to be some big to-do. It’s just...asking a question.”

“You talk like an old lady.”

“So I’ve been told. Look.” Davey leaned forward. “Do you want a chance with Race or not?”

Spot huffed and crossed his arms. “I mean, yeah.”

“Then it’s settled, isn’t it?”


	53. Simba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MORE Sprace drama. There are cupcakes and Goldfish crackers involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWELVE DAYS??? I think that's the longest we've gone without an update since we started this mess. Anyway, I have moved back in for my final semester of college. I'm posting this from the dining hall. #WaitingForMyDaveyJacobs

The fact that it was already the end of the school year floated around in Davey’s head like mist, there but not quite tangible. He would go home for the summer. Jack would graduate. Most importantly, finally, he was starting to understand that whole ‘you find your lifelong friends in college’ thing. He’d found out in conversation that Romeo lived one town over from him, and of course he’d have to visit everyone in New York City at least once over the summer.

Tuesday was a reading day; classes were officially over, but finals had yet to begin. Davey spent his reading day working on a paper with Elmer, then they joined up with Romeo and Tommy Boy for lunch at the dining hall. Afterwards, Davey returned to his room to study, and by late afternoon, he was half asleep in a textbook, silently wishing for a distraction. Apparently the procrastination gods were listening, because not five minutes later, the door buzzed and opened, and Spot walked in, looking dazed. Shit.

“What did he do, this time?” Davey groaned.

“He, uh...” Spot sat down at his desk, looking very much like he had just suffered some significant head trauma. “I asked him out.”

Davey cringed so hard. “And?”

“He said yes.”

“Spot, I’m—” Davey stopped short. He had been about to apologize. “Wait, what?”

Spot pulled his gaze out of the ether and towards Davey. “I said, ‘D’you wanna go out?’ and he said, ‘Sounds fun.’ I asked if he was free tomorrow and he just said, ‘Yuh,’ and walked away.”

Davey squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Wait, wait, wait. He...what?”

“‘Yuh’, and then walked away,” Spot repeated. “Is that even a yes?”

Davey snatched his phone off his desk so fast, he damn near threw it across the room. He pulled up Jack’s contact and pressed ‘call’.

The line clicked on, and Davey could hear what sounded like some first person shooter game in the background. “Yyyello,” Jack answered, sounding rather distracted.

“Hey, Jack, can you do me a weird favor?”

“Oh hey, baby!” His voice significantly brightened.

Davey heart melted, and he smiled. “Hi, Jacky.”

“What’s up? Jack asked as the background explosions continued.

“I need you to ask Race what he’s doing tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure.” There was quiet for a moment as Jack—presumably—texted Race, and then he was back. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Davey assured him. “I just need to know what he says.”

“Ope, wait, there he is. He says ‘ask Spot’?”

Davey put the phone to his chest. “It’s a yes.”

Spot let out a ‘whoof’ of breath, relief washing over his face.

“What’s a yes? Jack asked. “What am I missing?”

Davey brought the phone back up to his ear, grinning. “Spot asked Race on a date.”

“Oh, holy shit!” Jack yelled, and he sounded strangely far away. After a moment, Davey could hear fumbling, and then Jack spoke again. “Sorry, my phone made a bid for freedom.”

Davey laughed, then it occurred to him... “Hey, you’ve known Race longer than either of us. What would you do, if you were gonna take him on a date?”

Jack chuckled. “Lock myself in a closet and reconsider my life choices.”

“Good answer,” Davey grinned, “but not helpful at the moment.”

Jack started to speak but, being in the same room, Spot’s voice drowned him out. “Nah, I don’t need his ideas—got my own.”

Davey raised his eyebrows at Spot, surprised. “Oh?”

Spot nodded.

“Well, never mind, Jack.” Davey smirked. “Sounds like we don’t need you, after all.”

Jack let out a pouty huff. “Well fine, then. Don’t worry about me; I’ll just fuck right off.”

“I love you,” Davey cooed sweetly.

“I love you too, Davey.”

Davey ended the call and turned back to Spot. “So?”

“There’s this dumb fancy ice cream place not too far away,” Spot said, still sitting at his desk and now bouncing his leg in an absent, not quite nervous way. “They do different flavors every day, and the flavors are always crazy stuff like chamomile tea or lingonberry. I don’t even know what the fuck a lingonberry is. There was this one that was described as tasting the way a nice cashmere sweater looks on a man. I’s ridiculous, but I think Race would like it...?”

Huh. That actually sounded...really thoughtful and sweet. “That sounds great, Spot.”

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I dunno, it sounds weird now that I said it out loud.”

“No, really.” Davey stood up and stepped towards him. “That sounds really nice. I think he’ll like it.”

Spot grunted noncommittally, and then scowled at the floor. “Man, I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be,” Davey said gently. “Worst case scenario, you go on a date, and nothing changes, right?”

“I’m sure I could find a way to fuck things up worse than that,” Spot replied, “but yeah.”

“It’s Race. I don’t think there’s anything you could do that couldn’t be solved with a quickie,” Davey sighed. Somehow, Race managed to be exasperating when he wasn’t even there.

Spot laughed. “That’s a good point.”

“So you’re going to go, and you’re going to have a great time, and you’re going to tell me everything,” Davey said.

Spot rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Yeah, fine.”

“Should I plan to spend the night at Jack and Crutchie’s?”

Spot let out an amused huff. “Knowing Race, yeah, probably.”

Davey was perfectly happy for the excuse. He sent Jack a quick text—“ _ Can I spend the night tomorrow so Spot can have the room? _ ”—and quickly received a slew of heart emojis, fireworks, and winky faces in reply. Davey giggled. What a dork.

In a rare moment of almost gentle sincerity, Spot said. “You’re a good friend, Dave. ‘M glad I pulled you out of that shithole dorm down the hall.”

Davey blinked for a moment, then a smile smile spread across his face. “You too, Spot.”

* * *

The following night, with Jack at work, two finals for which to study, and a paper to work on, Davey set up shop at Jack and Crutchie’s small dining table for a night of schoolwork. Crutchie was there, sitting on the couch with some science textbook that was way over Davey’s head, reading quietly, occasionally tapping on the pages. After a while, Crutchie closed his book and set it on the coffee table before standing up and making his way into the kitchen to look at a small piece of paper that was held on the fridge by a magnet.

“Anything specific you want for dinner or breakfast?” he asked Davey, glancing his way.

Davey shook his head. “Whatever you have is fine.”

“Well, we got nothin’.”

“Not even pretzels?” he gasped in mock horror. “What will we do if Race’s date doesn’t go well?”

Crutchie chuckled. “Guess we better go to the grocery.”

* * *

“You folks finding everything okay?” a young man in a navy polo shirt asked.

“Actually, no,” Crutchie replied. “Where would we find oatmeal?”

Once given directions, Davey pushed the cart—so far filled with apples, granola bars, instant popcorn, and Crutchie—into motion.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Crutchie said, “Aldi is great—it’s cheap, ethically run, but the layout makes  _ no _ sense, and there aren’t any signs!”

“At least it’s small,” Davey said, nodding in agreement. “It’s not like we’re going to get lost.”

“Well, if we do, I think we should set up camp in the aisle with the chips and the Windex.”

“Deal.” Davey grabbed a box of oatmeal, looking at the label. “What does Jack like?”

“The dinosaur kind.” Crutchie pointed to a box further along the shelf, that had brightly colored, cartoony dinosaurs on the front.

“Of course, he does.” Davey returned the box in his hand to the shelf and pushed forward to retrieve the dinosaur oatmeal.

“It’s got little sugar eggs with little sugar dinos inside, and the eggs melt in the hot water but the dinos don’t,” Crutchie explained, reaching out to pull a box into the cart.

Davey sighed. “Oh my god, he’s a child.”

Crutchie chuckled fondly. “Hey, you’re the one who’s in love with him.”

“I am, god help me.” Davey continued down the row, pushing Crutchie along in the cart. “What else do we need?”

“Sandwich stuff, frozen pizza, the basics,” Crutchie replied, looking at his list.

“That’s, uh...” Davey looked around. “Frozen pizza’s on the side, there.”

Crutchie gestured towards it in mild bafflement. “Next to eggs and biscuit dough.”

Davey laughed, turning the cart and careening towards the aforementioned side. “I fucking love Aldi.”

“It’s a magical place.” Crutchie nodded, reaching towards the pizza. “Oh, look! There’s pickles, too.”

* * *

Jack winced as he pulled on the door handle to the apartment building and let go, frowning at the bandage wrapped around his palm as he reached for the handle with his other hand. It was only a small gash—just part of the usual wear and tear of being a bit of a klutz who works in an auto shop. It still hurt. He trudged upstairs, wiped out from a day of classes, and then work. It was May thirteenth, only seven days between him and graduation. Jack was half expecting something to suddenly go terribly wrong and ruin him academically, but so far so good. On his way up the stairs, towards the third floor of his apartment building, Jack found himself absently wonder what he was going to do after graduating. He’d need to pick up another job, certainly, hopefully one he could turn into a career, but what?

Once Jack reached the apartment, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. He knew Davey would be there, having discussed this ahead of time, and he was more than a little happy about that. What he wasn’t expecting was the disaster area in his kitchen.

“Hey, Jack!” Crutchie said brightly, licking icing off his fingers.

Davey looked up from a mixing bowl, green food coloring smeared on his cheek, and smiled. “We’re making cupcakes.”

There were sprinkles everywhere.

Jack was frozen for a moment, wildly surprised, and then he started to laugh. “Oh my god, you guys are adorable.”

Davey’s smile brightened for a moment, then disappeared in an instant as his gaze tilted down slightly. “What happened to your hand?”

“What? Oh.” Jack looked down at his bandaged hand. “Nah, it’s nothin—just got a little cut at work.”

Davey dropped the spatula he was holding into his mixing bowl. “Let me see,” he said, making a beeline for Jack.

Jack chuckled, extending his hand out obediently. “Babe, I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Davey asked, gently unwrapping the bandage.

“I was carrying a thing, and it slipped. Caught me with one of the edges.”

“Did you clean it?”

Jack nodded. “A’course.”

“Did you put anything on it?”

“Yeah, we got a first aid kit in the back room.”

“Well...you need a new bandage,” Davey concluded.

Crutchie chuckled knowingly, smirking. “Under the bathroom sink.”

Davey grabbed Jack’s wrist and gently pulled him along to the bathroom.

Jack smiled, trailing after him. “You’re too good to me, sweetheart.”

Davey huffed, kneeling down to get into the cabinet. “Have you ever heard of a staph infection?”

“A what now?” Jack teased.

Davey ignored him. “Don’t you guys have any chlorhexidine or something?” He produced a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “This is going to sting like a bitch.”

Jack groaned. “Babe, I’m fine, really.”

“Shut up and let me be domestic,” Davey snapped. He set the alcohol, a mostly empty bag of cotton pads, and the roll of gauze on the counter by the sink. “How was work, other than hurting yourself?”

Jack stifled a fond chuckle, wondering how in the hell he got so lucky. “Yes, dear.” He shrugged. “Work was fine, nothing special.”

“You should be more careful,” Davey scolded him gently, brushing over his palm with an alcohol-soaked cotton pad.

Jack winced, hissing. It was a sizable cut, nothing to be truly worried about, but—always happy to find an excuse to be babied—he was more than willing to overreact.

Davey tutted. “It’s your own fault for only having rubbing alcohol.” He wrapped Jack’s hand with the gauze and tucked it in over the back of his hand. “There.”

“Still hurts though,” Jack grumbled, frowning at his freshly doctored hand.

Davey rolled his eyes and placed a kiss on Jack’s palm, overtop the bandage. “Better?”

“A little.” Jack continued to pout, knowing full well that Davey was aware of this charade, but sticking to it anyway.

“You’re ridiculous,” Davey said fondly, pushing past him out of the bathroom. “Speaking of ridiculous, what do you suppose Spot and Race are doing, right now? I thought Race would be here eating all your pretzels, by now.”

Jack followed Davey, flicking off the light in the bathroom as he went. “Seeing as the sun’s gone down, my money’s on fucking.”

Back in the kitchen, Crutchie was getting the cupcakes out of the oven and setting the pan on a hot pad. Davey went back back to his bowl of green frosting and pushed another bowl, along with a small red bottle, towards Jack.

“Here, mix the red.”

Jack grabbed a spoon and squeezed some dye into the bowl before starting to stir. “Do we have a theme, or...?”

“Rainbow,” Davey and Crutchie said in unison.

Davey smiled sheepishly. “We spilled the sprinkles, but—”

“ _ You _ spilled the sprinkles,” Crutchie corrected.

“Rude,” Davey shot back. “ _ I _ spilled the sprinkles, but I think we salvaged enough.”

Jack laughed, beyond delighted by how well his two favorite people got along. “Are we preparing stock for the inevitable Racer invasion, or is this just for fun?”

“I’m hoping we won’t have a Racer invasion,” Davey said. “I’m hoping everyone goes well, and he and Spot have a great time, and everything is good.”

“We can always hope.” Crutchie nodded in agreement, adding a few drops of orange dye to another bowl of frosting and accidentally getting most of it on his fingers. After a half second of consideration, he reached out across the counter to wipe his thumb across Jack’s forehead, leaving a smear of dye. “ _ Simbaaa _ .”

Jack recoiled, sputtering indignantly. He grabbed the little bottle of blue dye sitting on the counter and aimed it at Crutchie’s chest. Unfortunately, these bottles had drip caps, so rather than shooting a stream of dye across, it simply dripped down onto the counter.

Davey burst out laughing, and Crutchie smirked.

“Long live the king.”

* * *

After a lovely evening of baking shenanigans and sugar rushes that lasted until at least midnight, the boys headed to bed. As usual, Crutchie was out almost immediately; he was a light sleeper, but he could drift off in record time. Jack and Davey held a whispered conversation until Davey fell asleep as well.

At five a.m.—about two and a half hours after Jack had finally slipped into blessed unconsciousness—Crutchie was woken up by the sound of the front door unlocking and opening. He sat up sharply. “Jack.”

Slightly louder than the door, Crutchie’s voice was enough to knock Jack out of his not-quite peaceful sleep, and he sat up as well. “W—“

Crutchie cut him off. “Someone just opened the door.”

Jack was instantly on high alert and stood up, reaching to grab Crutchie’s cane as a makeshift weapon. His fingertips didn’t even hit the handle before the bedroom door opened as well, revealing— _ goddamnit, of course _ —one Racetrack Higgins, looking much more awake than anyone had any right to at this ungodly hour.

“Oh, good,” Race sighed with relief, “you’re awake.”

Jack groaned. “Race, what the fuck!?”

Race walked past Jack and sat on Jack’s bed next to one extremely confused Davey, who he didn’t even seem to notice was there. “Spot and I went on a real date.”

“Yeah, we know that,” Jack replied, setting Crutchie’s cane back where it belonged.

“I liked it.” Race turned his head to the side to face Davey. “Is this what actual dating’s like?”

“I dunno, Race,” Davey replied blearily.

“That’s good, though,” Crutchie said, and Jack nodded.

Race whined, “I don’t know what to do. I’m so  _ confused _ .”

Jack sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to Race. “Why are you confused?”

“Because it’s never been like this before!” Race looked up at Crutchie. “Do you have—”

“Pretzels?” Crutchie deadpanned.

“No, that’s just the thing!” Race gestured wildly. “I’m not even sure I want pretzels. I mean, I do, but like...Goldfish crackers also sound kinda good, and if that’s what’s available, maybe that’s okay? Maybe I can live with that. Goldfish are delicious—especially the flavor-blasted, extra cheddar kind.”

Davey caught Jack’s eye and mouthed, ‘Is Spot Goldfish?’

Jack nodded very slightly, mouthed ‘flavor-blasted’, and then winked, fighting down a shit eating grin.

“What should I do?” Race huffed.

Jack sighed again. “It’s like you said, man, you can’t really have pretzels, but there’s plenty of Goldfish.” He shrugged. “Sometimes y’don’t get your first choice, an’ that’s just how it is.”

“What? No, I don’t mean about the snacks.” Race shook his head. “What should I do about Spot asking me to be his real boyfriend?”

Davey choked on nothing, and Crutchie groaned and flopped back onto his bed.

Jack dragged a hand slowly down his face. “It’s pretty much the same situation, Racer.”

Race plowed on as if he hadn’t even heard him. “I want to say ‘yes’, but I don’t know why. I mean, sure, he’s the best fuck buddy I’ve ever had in my life. Like, holy shit. But you know what they say about buying the milk when you can get the cow for free.”

“Other way around, Race,” Crutchie said.

“Getting the cow for free when you can buy the milk.” Race looked up at Jack. “Spot’s gonna be upset, if I say ‘no’, and I don’t want Spot to be upset. It makes me feel icky.”

Jack very carefully coughed instead of laughing. “Then you should say ‘yes’.”

“But then I’m his  _ boyfriend _ , and I don’t...” Race chewed on his bottom lip and looked at the floor. “I don’t know how to do it...”

“It ain’t all that complicated.” Jack shrugged. “It’s just puttin’ feelings in—doin’ stuff to make him happy, doin’ stuff that makes you happy, bein’ together, caring and all that.”

“But how is that any different than what we’re doing, now?” Race asked indignantly.

“You can’t fuck people who aren’t Spot,” Crutchie told him, voice thick with annoyance.

Jack nodded and gestured towards Crutchie to indicate his agreement. “Yeah, y’gotta care about how you and the shit you do affects Spot. A proper relationship is just as much about him as it is about you.”

“And what if he changes his mind?” Race asked quietly.

Jack looked at Davey for a second before answering. “That’s possible, sure, but you gotta decide if it’s worth that risk. Better to go for it and have a chance of losing it, or not go for it at all?”

“Spot likes you a lot, Race,” Davey chimed in. “He’s not just going to change his mind.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “He’s a good guy, and he’s definitely hung up on you.”

A little smile tugged at the edges of Race’s mouth. “You really think so?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Would he still be putting up with all your shit if he wasn’t?”

“I guess not...”

“See? There ya go. Problem solved.” Jack replied.

Race stared at the floor, eyebrows scrunched up in concern. Then, slowly, his face relaxed, a smile spread across his face, and he started giggling.

Jack and Crutchie shared a nervous look.

“Race...?” Crutchie said, aiming to prompt him to share whatever had just entered his mind.

Race pulled his phone out of his pocket and flounced away to the living room, typing away. Moments later, Jack and Crutchie’s phones both buzzed.

* * *

Losers on a Mission

Race: I HAVE IMPORTANT NEWS

Buttons: Oh my gosh, Race, it’s 6am?

Finch: this had better not be about spot’s dick

Race: IT’S MINE NOW, BITCH


	54. The (Unfortunate) Return of the Wonder Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey runs into his former roommates, and Jack and Crutchie plan a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops our hands slipped.

Another final down, and Davey felt good about it. He’d never really had any reason to worry about his grades, but that didn’t stop him from doing it. It still felt good to have another class off his hands. On top of that, it was a beautiful night. Wait—what day of the week was it? Thursday? He wondered if it was too late to see if Jack wanted to hang out. They could go to the roof and study. That would be nice. The stars were out, and the moon was bright, and Davey wondered when he became such a romantic. Sadly, it was getting late. At the very least, he could order pizza and finish his paper. He started up the stairs to his floor, mind going a mile a minute, trying to make a plan for the rest of finals. He was almost done with his paper, so he could easily finish it and turn it in, and then if he just spent a couple hours a day studying for his last exam—

“Oh shit, look who it is,” an unpleasantly familiar voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Hey, roomie.” Make that two unpleasantly familiar voices.

Davey gritted his teeth and bit back a groan as he came face to face with the wonder twins themselves, Morris and Oscar Delancey. “Hi,” he said shortly. He didn’t have anything else to say to these two. Unfortunately, they were right in the way, blocking Davey from going much further than the second floor landing.

“How ya been, Dave?” Morris asked, somehow making his name sound like an insult.

“Good. How about you?” Davey replied, glancing between the two of them, hoping some simple politeness would bore them enough to make them leave him alone.

“Oh, y’know, things have been pretty quiet since you moved out,” Morris said, and opened his mouth to say more but Oscar spoke over him.

“Though that reminds me, were you ever gonna tell us you’re some kinda fuckin’ pervert, or was that just a fun little secret for you?”

Davey’s jaw dropped for a second as Oscar’s comment processed, and he took a tiny, careful step back. “I—what? What are you talking about?”

“Sneaky little shit, now I get why you were _so_ _concerned_ that time Morris was taking so long in the bathroom. How many times did you peep on us, you creep?”

“Tell me,” Morris began in mock interest, “are you fucking Jack Kelly? Or is he fucking you?”

_ Oh, god _ . “That’s none of your business,” Davey protested. “Excuse me.” He tried to push his way around them.

Oscar moved to remain in Davey’s way. “You fuckin’ the RA, too? ‘S that why he got you reassigned, so he could have his own live-in whore?”

Davey frowned at the floor, growing more uncomfortable by the second. He didn’t like the Delanceys, he didn’t like being blocked, he didn’t like being called a whore, he just wanted to go back to his room.

“Better let him go, Oscar,” Morris said in an awful mockery of concern. “He’s probably on his way to go choke on Spot’s dick right now, like a good little slut.”

Davey shut his eyes tight as a chill ran up his spine.  _ Good little slut _ . 

“Aw, are you gonna cry?” Morris laughed. “Done something you’re ashamed of, slut?”

Davey shook his head. He wasn’t going to cry. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

“What—not gonna say anything? Don’t you know you’re supposed to answer when someone asks you a question?” Oscar snickered.

“I’m not sleeping with Spot,” Davey said, voice trembling dangerously.

Morris gasped softly. “Oscar, I think he’s scared,” he said in a tone of mocking wonderment.

Oscar glanced at his brother briefly before turning back to Davey, grinning like a shark. “You scared, faggot?”

_ Yes _ . Davey swallowed hard. “Please leave me alone.”

“Aww, he said ‘please’.” Oscar snickered some more, then jerked suddenly forward in a false start, raising his fist as if he were about to lunge and hit Davey. When Davey flinched, he laughed.

Davey huffed lightly, pressing his lips together in determination. Fuck this. He didn’t have to take this. “I’m done talking to you two,” he said, trying to push his way through them.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Morris snarled. Placing his hands on Davey’s shoulders, he gave him a solid shove. Davey stumbled down the last couple stairs to the landing, grabbing the railing to keep from falling. His heart pounded against his ribs as he looked up at Morris in shock.

“You can be ‘done’ when we say you are,” Oscar sneered, stepping down to the landing as well.

“First he won’t answer a simple question, and now he’s try’n’a just leave right in the middle of a conversation.” Morris shook his head, clicking his tongue reproachfully as he followed his brother onto the landing and moved past Davey to block the lower stairs, effectively boxing him in. “Someone needs to teach you some manners.”

“What are you doing?” Davey asked, panic rising.

“Don’t worry, faggot—just making sure you learn your lesson.” Oscar said plainly, looking at his clenched fist appraisingly as he approached Davey.

Davey backed up until his back hit the corner, and his blood turned to ice. “Don’t.”

Oscar looked over his shoulder to Morris and laughed. Then turned back to Davey quickly, using this slight momentum to propel his fist right into his stomach, knocking all the air out of his lungs.

Davey collapsed against the wall, shaking. “ _ Please _ ,” he gasped.

Oscar laughed again and grabbed ahold of the front of Davey’s shirt, pulling him upright before cracking his fist across his face. Davey couldn’t feel much aside from adrenaline. He knew he had to get away. He had no idea what the Delanceys were capable of, and he didn’t want to find out. His eyes were watering from the blow to his face, and he struggled blindly, hitting Oscar in the chest not quite hard enough to knock him off. Unfortunately, this seemed only to encourage Oscar.

“‘S that it? That’s all you got?” 

Another blow landed on the side of Davey’s head, just above his ear. He cried out in alarm and pain and barely managed to keep from crumpling to the floor. His face was wet, and he wasn’t sure if he was crying or bleeding. Oscar raised his fist to strike Davey again, but the sound of a commotion on the floor above them distracted him and Morris for half a second. Davey didn’t think. He kicked and, by some stroke of luck, hit Oscar in the knee. He didn’t stick around see the result, bolting down the stairs and away from the building as fast as his legs would carry him.

* * *

Jack was seated at the kitchen table, glaring at his laptop and muttering under his breath. As Davey had said before, his brain was full of colors and pictures, not words, and while that was great for painting, it was not so much for essay writing.

“Hey,” Crutchie spoke up from across the room, breaking his concentration, “what kind of food do you want at the graduation party?”

Jack looked up, frowning. “What graduation party?”

“The one I’m throwing for you, dingus,” Crutchie told him.

Jack sputtered for a moment. “What? Man, c’mon, you don’t gotta do that.”

“You’re right. I don’t. So what kind of food do you want at it?”

Jack couldn’t help but smile as he rolled his eyes. “Let’s do like fried chicken or something. Wait, is fried chicken kosher?”

Crutchie pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “I don’t know.” He pulled out his phone, presumably to Google ‘Is fried chicken Kosher?’. Sure enough, a minute later, he looked up. “It can be, if I make it.”

Jack shook his head and waved dismissively. “Nah, we can do something easier.”

“I can always make something special for Dave,” Crutchie suggested. “I don’t think he’d mind.”

Jack smiled fondly at him. “Who made you such a good person?”

“God, presumably, if there is one.”

Jack snickered and looked back towards his paper. “Well, we know it wasn’t me.”

“‘It’s not lying, Charlie; it’s improving the truth!’” Crutchie said in a high-pitched mockery of young Jack’s voice.

“It’s not my fault you’re the most wholesome creature in the universe,” Jack protested. “You could use a little corrupting.”

“Yeah? Tell that to my girlfriend,” Crutchie said under his breath.

Jack choked on his laughter. “Ex _ cuse _ me!?”

“Not talking to you!”

Jack got up from the table and walked over to Crutchie—who was sitting in the armchair—and draped himself over the back of the chair, putting his face right next to Crutchie’s. “Sounds to me like I might’ve done my job too well.”

Crutchie shoved his head away, blushing like a tomato. “You did  _ nothing! _ ”

Jack giggled. “Maybe, but clearly  _ you _ did something.”

“Oh shut uuup.” Crutchie shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not like you didn’t know Laurie and I are sleeping together.”

“My little boy, all grown up.” Jack dropped a loud kiss on the top of Crutchie’s head and straightened up again.

Crutchie groaned. “I’m twenty-one. Let me live. I’m older than your boyfriend.”

Jack chuckled as he headed back to the kitchen table. “You’ll always be my baby; there’s no escape.”

“I’m tellin’ Dave you indirectly called him a baby.”

Jack spluttered. “I did no such thing!” He sat back down in front of his laptop. “How’s things going with Lauren, anyway?” he asked.

“Good,” Crutchie said simply.

“Good.” Jack was glad to see Crutchie so happy. He was one of the nicest, kindest people in the world, he deserved some happiness.

A knock on the door startled Jack out of his thoughts, but Crutchie was getting up before he could even really process it.

“I got it,” Crutchie said.

There had been a time when Jack would have argued, what with Crutchie’s bad leg, but he had learned better, so he turned back to his computer, passively listening as Crutchie opened the door.

“Holy shit,” Crutchie gasped. “ _ Jack _ .”

Jack looked up quickly at the urgency in Crutchie’s voice, and his eyes widened in alarm as he saw Davey framed in the doorway with blood all over his hand, covering the lower part of his face.

“Shit.” It was more of a breath than a word as Jack surged to his feet, knocking his chair over in his haste to get to the door. “What happened? Who did this?” he asked, panic tinging his voice as he reached out to pull Davey into his arms.

Davey passively fell into him, and Jack could feel him trembling, but Jack couldn’t even tell if Davey had heard him. Crutchie closed the door slowly, turning the handle so it didn’t click when it latched.

“Dave,  _ what happened? _ ” Jack asked more insistently.

“He needs to sit down, Jack.” Crutchie started towards the bathroom. “I’ll get the first aid stuff.”

Jack looked at Crutchie briefly and nodded. He took Davey’s book bag and set it on the counter, then guided Davey to the couch and sat down with him. Leaving one hand on his shoulder, he moved the other to gently tilt Davey’s face towards him so he could assess the extent of his injuries. His nose was bleeding; that was the most obvious problem. There was also a cut on his lip that had already started to scab, and Jack could also see the beginning of bruising.

“Davey, what happened?” Jack asked once more.

Davey opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but shook his head instead. Crutchie returned with a wet washcloth in his hand and alcohol, cotton pads, and gauze under his arm. The anger boiling in Jack’s chest began to overshadow his initial panic. Davey had been hurt,  _ again _ , and Jack wasn’t there. He tried to ignore it and push it down, focusing on getting Davey cleaned up.

Crutchie handed him the washcloth and set the other supplies down, balancing them on the arm of the couch. “I’m going to get him an ice pack.”

Jack nodded tightly, using the washcloth to gently wipe the blood off Davey’s face. Davey winced lightly and closed his eyes, still trembling. Jack began to murmur quiet comforts as he continued. It didn’t take long to get him cleaned up, and Jack gently placed his hand on Davey’s shoulder.

“Davey,” he spoke softly, “ _ please _ tell me what happened.”

Davey murmured something inaudible as he accepted an ice pack from Crutchie. He winced again as he gently pressed it against his nose.

Jack took a heavy breath. “Davey, please.”

Davey closed his eyes again as a couple tears spilled over onto his cheeks.

“Can I touch you?” Jack asked quietly.

Davey nodded silently, and Jack immediately pulled him into his arms, hugging him protectively against his chest. “You’re okay, I’ve got you,” he mumbled quietly.

Davey sniffled, leaning into Jack’s touch. He finally relaxed a little bit and took a deep breath. Jack continued to offer quiet assurances and comforts as he held him, rubbing gentle circles over his back. It was all Jack could do to keep from shaking with anger—anger at himself, at whoever did this, that it had even happened at all. He felt helpless, useless, but the small bit of his mind that was still functioning beyond this anger knew that none of that would help, now. Blowing up without so much as a target to aim it at would do more bad than good.

Davey was quiet for a few minutes. When he finally did speak, his voice was quiet and monotone. “It was my roommates,” he said. “My old roommates—the Delanceys”.

Ah, a target. Jack grit his teeth hard enough that he felt they might break. He pressed a short kiss to Davey’s temple and let him out of his arms as he stood up. There was nothing Jack could do to have prevented this from happening, but he could make them regret it.

Crutchie frowned at him. “Jack.”

Later. He could do it later. Now, he had to take care of Davey. Jack dragged his fingers through his hair on either side of his head and let out a slow breath, trying to quiet the fury pounding in his ears. Stiffly, he sat down again, firmly ignoring the urge to bolt, to hit something, to beat the world back into order and rightness. Davey had gone from looking terrified to just...blank, resigned. Jack hated it. He couldn’t do that again.

“We should tell Spot?” Crutchie suggested.

Jack nodded tightly and moved to place his hand over Davey’s, gently squeezing to assure him he was there.

Davey glanced at him, then at the floor. “They called me a slut.”

Jack ground his teeth. “They’re dumber than I thought.”

“But why?” Crutchie asked. “I don’t understand. Why would they do that?”

“They found out I’m gay,” Davey answered darkly, now shifting from blank and resigned to miserable. “I don’t know how, I don’t know...”

Jack’s free hand curled into a tight fist. “It don’t matter how. What matters is they won’t ever so much as speak to you again.”

Davey shook his head. “You can’t be sure of that.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure, don’t you worry about that.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Jacky.” Davey set the ice pack aside, revealing what had turned into a proper, swollen, dark purple bruise across the side of his nose and mouth. He was bouncing back quickly. That’s what mattered.

Jack forced a chuckle and brought Davey’s hand up to press a short kiss into his palm. “Babe, everything I do is stupid.”

“You love Davey,” Crutchie pointed out, very unhelpfully.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Fine. Everything I do other than love Davey is stupid.”

Davey smiled—a small, hurt smile, but a smile. Jack pressed another kiss against his knuckles and quietly asked. “How do I help you?”

“Right now?” Davey cringed. “I could use some ibuprofen.”

Jack nodded. “Sure thing.” He got up and headed to the bathroom to retrieve the ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet behind the mirror.

“Do you think your nose is broken?” Crutchie asked Davey, looking closely but retaining a decent distance.

“I don’t know...” Davey replied nervously.

Crutchie leaned in the tiniest bit closer and grimaced. He showed his hands. “May I?”

“Oh.” Davey nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Carefully, Crutchie reached out and touched Davey’s face, feeling for anything potentially broken. Before coming back to the couch, Jack went into the kitchen to get Davey a glass of water. He sat next to him again, waiting for Crutchie to finish his examination before handing over the water and the pill bottle.

“Thanks,” Davey sighed lightly, taking a quick look at the bottle before dumping a couple pills into his hand and popping them in his mouth.

“We should tell someone,” Jack said. “I’m pretty sure there’s procedures and stuff for this sorta thing, maybe we can get them thrown out.”

“What good would that do?” Davey sighed. “I already have a target on my back. You do, too.”

Jack frowned. He didn’t like hearing Davey sound so defeated, like there was nothing to be done to make this right. Of course, there  _ was _ nothing to be done to make this right, but at the very least the Delanceys should face retribution for their actions.

“I’ll tell Spot,” Davey said, like it was a compromise.

Jack grumbled unintelligibly about ‘justice’ and ‘fuck ‘em up’ and so on before dropping into a huffy silence, trying to will away the anger still coiled hot in the pit of his stomach.

“Thank you,” Davey looked at Jack, then Crutchie, “for everything. I’m so lucky to have you two.”

Jack smiled. “Anything for you, Davey.”

“We’re family,” Crutchie said. “We’ll always be here for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry; we’ll beat Jack up, later.


	55. Jack Is a Needy Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey is always there for Jack.

Earlier in the week, one of Jack’s coworkers at the auto shop had been sick, and Jack had agreed to swap shifts to cover for him. This offered the rare delicacy of a free Friday night. Alas, finals week waits for no man, so when Jack suggested a date night, Davey countered with study night, and, as always, Jack couldn’t say ‘no’.

Jack picked Davey up from his dorm on his way home from his art history final, around six forty-five. Back at the apartment, they set up a little folding tray table in front of the couch for Davey to use as a desk while he worked on a paper, and Jack flopped into the corner of the couch with a textbook. By seven-fifteen, Jack had migrated across the couch to rest his head in Davey’s lap as he continued to read, and by seven-thirty, he had abandoned the book entirely in favor of capturing one of Davey’s hands to play with.

Davey snickered. “Darling, I need that hand to type.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack scoffed, twining their fingers together.

Davey managed to wrench his hand away, and Jack whined and grumbled at the separation, but was quickly placated as Davey carded his fingers through his hair instead, gently scratching.

“You know,” Jack mused, “you could probably just skip all your finals. Since you’ve got nothing but one-hundreds in every class, I bet it wouldn’t even knock you down a letter-grade.”

“No, love,” Davey said, smiling.

“Well, I know you  _ won’t _ , I’m just saying you  _ could _ .” Jack reached for Davey’s hand again.

“Someone’s a little starved for attention, huh?” Davey chuckled. “How do you plan on surviving the summer?”

For a moment, Jack was confused, and then understanding dawned. Davey would be going home. “Shit, I forgot about summer...” he mumbled.

“I’ll come visit,” Davey assured him, “and we can talk on the phone and video chat. You won’t even know I’m gone.”

Jack smiled, hoping not to look as gutted as he felt. He knew he was being silly; of course Davey was going home for the summer. That was a good thing. But he’d gotten used to seeing Davey pretty much every day, so him being gone for a few months was going to be a rough change.

“Do you have any plans for the summer?” Davey asked, apparently either oblivious to Jack’s inner turmoil or purposefully trying to distract him from it.

Jack shrugged, fidgeting with Davey’s hand in his. “Not really, I’ll probably pick up another job or something.”

Davey frowned in a way that reminded Jack uncomfortably of a disappointed parent. “Another job? Jack, you‘ll run yourself ragged.”

Jack shifted uncomfortably and sat up. “I’m only working two right now, and school’s gonna be over soon...”

“Only two,” Davey repeated sarcastically.

Jack winced slightly, unhappy as always to be so close to the topic of his less-than-sufficient socioeconomic status. “Two part-time jobs ain’t enough to live on, Dave...” he said quietly. “I need to find something real.”

“Well, that’s fair.” Davey nodded. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Jack shook his head. “Not yet...”

“Maybe you could go full time at the auto shop,” Davey suggested.

Jack twisted his mouth in a displeased squiggle. “I’ve already asked for more hours. I don’t think they’d go for it.”

“Well...” Davey continued a little shyly. “What about your art?”

“I got a patreon set up, but I haven’t gotten many commissions yet...” Jack replied, feeling a bit embarrassed and oddly guilty, as if he wasn’t putting enough effort in.

“No one knows who you are, yet.” Davey placed a comforting hand on Jack’s arm. “Jack, you’re a great artist. It’s just going to take a little time.”

Jack smiled wanly. “Yeah, it’ll happen when it happens, I guess. I’m not gonna stop trying or anything, I just gotta be practical, yknow?”

“Yeah.” Davey smiled again. “You’ll figure it out. You’re smart.”

“No, that’s you, babe,” Jack snickered. “I’m the dumb, pretty one, remember?”

“I don’t know, you might be both.”

“Well, that would hardly be fair to everyone else. I’m already quite a catch,” he teased.

“Yeah, and I caught you,” Davey said, turning his attention back to his computer. “‘Everyone else’ can deal with it.”

Jack chuckled fondly and took a moment to just quietly look at Davey, wondering how in the hell he got so lucky. After all the mess in his life and the more that was sure to come, Jack had conditioned himself not to get attached to things or rely on anything other than himself. Everything was fragile and fleeting, able to disappear at any moment, so Jack kept up walls. The only person who had ever been completely allowed in was Crutchie, and Jack was very aware of how easily that could wreck him. If anything ever happened to Crutchie, Jack was done for. But now—now, he had found Davey, and everything had changed. Davey Jacobs was, inarguably, incredible. He was kind and smart and clever, and for whatever reason, he was interested in Jack. Well,  _ usually _ he was interested in Jack. Right now he was more focused on his laptop.

Jack pursed his lips, not quite pouting as he regarded Davey, who always looked particularly beautiful when lost in thought. Davey chewed on his bottom lip and scrunched up his eyebrows, eyes scanning over the words he’d written a few times before he grumbled, annoyed, and pulled up a thesaurus website. An adoring smile spread across Jack’s face as he watched him, and after a moment—as soon as Davey had stopped typing and started reading again—he reached to recapture one of his hands. The corners of Davey’s mouth twitched ever so slightly, and he set his lips into a firm line.

“You’re not using this, right?” Jack asked as he pulled Davey’s hand away from the keyboard.

“Not anymore,” Davey grumbled.

“Didn’t think so.” Jack grinned.

Davey bit down on his bottom lip again, eyes never straying from the screen as he clicked about on the thesaurus site. Watching him intently, Jack very slowly lifted Davey’s hand towards his face, opened his mouth, and slowly bit down on his wrist.

Davey jerked his hand back and broke into laughter. “What the hell, Jack?” he exclaimed, wiping his wrist on his shirt.

“You’re not paying attention to me!” Jack whined, reaching for his hand again.

Davey grabbed a pillow from beside him and shoved it over Jack’s face. Jack yelped and flailed for a moment, attempting to knock the pillow away, and Davey let it go. As soon as the pillow dropped, Jack lunged, wrapping his arms around Davey’s waist and tugging him over sideways into his lap. Davey laughed some more, quickly rolling onto his back.

“See, Davey,” Jack explained very reasonably as he combatted any attempts made by Davey to sit up, “I gotta get all the attention I can, now, before you disappear and forget me forever.”

“I’m not going to do that please don’t hold me down,” Davey said in a rush, still smiling, but now it was a little strained.

Jack immediately let go, holding his hands up and out of the way. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t think—“

“It’s okay.” Davey sat up. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack repeated.

“It’s okay,” Davey repeated back, taking his hand. “You have my attention.”

Jack squeezed his hand, somewhere between comfort and a silent apology.

“I promise I won’t disappear,” Davey continued, shaking his head.

“You better not,”

“Cross my heart.” Davey did the motion with his free hand.

“Good.” Jack lifted his other hand to press a kiss to his knuckles.

Davey leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder. “You’re amazing.”

Jack let out a small huff of laughter. “It’s a kiss, babe. Anyone can do that.”

“Not what I meant, dingus.”

“Well, what did you mean?” Jack asked, smiling and dropping a brief kiss on Davey’s head.

“That you’re amazing,” Davey said.

“Y’know, Dave,” Jack shifted to put his arm around Davey’s shoulders, “you say you’re an English major, and you have a scholarship and all that, but you have a very confusing way with words.”

“Don’t be rude,” Davey chided, tilting his head back up to look at Jack. “It’s not my fault.”

“Oh yeah, whose fault is it then?”

“Yours, obviously.”

Jack laughed. “Mine? What did  _ I  _ do?”

“You’re too goddamn gorgeous; it makes my brain all fuzzy.”

Jack sputtered for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Is ‘at so?”

“Yes,” Davey said. “It’s a problem.”

“Well, what should I do about it?”

“The way I see it, you have two options—” Davey counted on his fingers. “You can get less pretty, or you can kiss me.”

Jack snickered. “Yeah, okay.” He gently nudged the underside of Davey’s chin with a curled finger, tilting his face up so he could kiss him.

Davey leaned in, placing his hands on Jack’s sides and pulling him in closer. Jack hummed happily against his lips, shifting towards him and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“I’m going to miss you,” Davey said, not quite pulling away, so his lips brushed against Jack’s when he spoke.

“Let’s not think about it, huh? We got a few more days,” Jack replied softly, still holding him close.

Davey hummed, “Okay,” and kissed him again.

Jack responded immediately, making sure to let Davey set the pace. He had always been careful not to press further than what was offered, but especially now, after everything that had happened. Things were almost completely normal again, and Jack didn’t want to risk jeopardizing that.

When they finally broke apart, Davey curled up in Jack’s lap with his head on Jack’s shoulder and snuggled into him. “Have you had enough attention, yet?”

“Never,” Jack replied, dropping a kiss on Davey’s forehead.

Davey chuckled. “So needy.”

“All part and parcel of the Jack Kelly experience, baby.”

“Oh my god.”

“Are you complaining?” Jack teased, resting his cheek against Davey’s head.

“Never,” Davey shot back.

“Mm, good.” Jack shifted slightly, getting more comfortable and cuddling Davey closer against his chest. There was quiet for a moment before Jack spoke again. “You know I love you more than anything, right?”

Davey scoffed. “No you don’t.”

Jack squawked indignantly. “Wh— Yes, I do!”

“Crutchie.”

“We’ been over this; he’s an outlier, it doesn’t count.”

“Of course, he counts!”

“No, he doesn’t!”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

“He knows! He doesn’t count cause he’s like, part of me, yknow?”

“ _ Fine _ ,” Davey laughed. “Fine. Crutchie doesn’t count, and I love you, too.”

Jack grumbled nonsense, nestling his face in Davey’s hair. He had learned, through a little bit of asking and a little bit of trial and error, that Davey didn’t mind Jack’s face in his hair, Jack kissing his hair, et cetera. It was hands specifically, even his own, and somehow the specificity made it even worse.

Davey hummed lightly. “May I finish my paper, now?”

“If you  _ gotta _ ,” Jack replied without loosening his arms.

“...In a minute,” Davey decided.

Jack smiled, readjusting and somehow cuddling Davey even closer.

Eventually, Davey started on his paper again, but Jack pouted and complained until he relented and scooted back to settle between Jack’s legs, leaning back against his chest while he worked. Jack was content to simply hold Davey, absently reading over his shoulder as he typed. At about eight forty-five, Jack got a text from Crutchie saying he was staying at Lauren’s that night, so naturally Jack asked Davey if he wanted to sleep over. Davey reminded him that he had to get up early for work.

“That’s why I suggested a sleepover instead of going clubbing,” Jack replied with a quiet snicker.

Davey rolled his eyes. “Fine. I think Spot has Race over, anyway. I’m sure they won’t mind having the room to themselves.”

“I wonder how Spot’s handling the newfound chaos of a real relationship with Race.”

“I don’t know,” Davey said. “This is their first date as real boyfriends.”

“God help him,” Jack chuckled.

Davey closed his laptop and leaned back on Jack’s chest. “Wanna order pizza and watch The Mandalorian?”

“God, you’re perfect.”

* * *

Davey always slept really well at Jack’s apartment. This was only partially for the poetic reason of him feeling very safe with Jack. Mostly, it was because Jack’s bed was more comfortable than the ones in the dorms, and Jack was like a personal space heater. Very few things could wake Davey up in Jack’s apartment, before he was ready.

Suddenly, Jack—who had been curled up around Davey’s back like an oversized human backpack—jerked violently awake with a gasp, sitting up so sharply he fell out of the bed.

That woke Davey up instantaneously, well before he was ready. “Jack!?” he exclaimed in alarm, sitting up without falling out of the bed.

Jack had scrambled backwards, looking wide eyed around the room, until his back hit the dresser, and he stayed there, breathing rapidly.

“Jack,” Davey repeated, softer. He didn’t know if he should go to him, or if that would make everything worse.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, still breathing heavily, and gripped the carpet on either side of him. He started to shake a bit, as one does when starting to cry.

Davey tossed the blankets off himself and went to Jack, kneeling down near him. “You’re okay, Jack. It was just a dream.”

Still pressing himself back against the dresser, Jack shakily reached a hand out towards Davey as a few tears squeezed out past his closed eyelids.

Davey took his hand and scooted in closer, reaching out with his other hand to brush Jack’s tears away. “It’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay...”

Jack shuddered the tiniest bit when he felt Davey’s fingers on his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said shakily, barely above a whisper.

Davey shook his head. “No, hey, it’s okay. Come here.”

More tears spilled out when Jack opened his eyes, and he shifted towards Davey, still shaking.

Davey wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, cradling his head against his shoulder with one hand and rubbing his back with the other. “You’re okay. You’re in your room in your apartment. It was just a dream.”

Jack leaned heavily into him, shaking with silent sobs. Davey had only seen Jack like this once before, and then he’d had Crutchie. Jack seemed small, broken. It was a jarring contrast to his usual strong, boisterous self. Davey remembered Crutchie talking to Jack when he got like this, so he tried to keep up a constant string of gentle empathy and encouragement while holding onto him tightly to help him feel grounded. Jack clung to him like a drowning man to a lifeline, almost hyperventilating as sobs tore from his chest. Davey had to take a couple deep breaths of his own to stay calm. Jack was always there for him. Now, he needed to be there for Jack.

“Jack, try to breathe, okay? You need to breathe. You’re okay. You’re in your room, in your apartment, and everything is okay.”

Jack didn’t seem to hear him, shaking like a leaf as he pressed himself close to Davey as he could. Davey wondered if he needed to call Crutchie. It was the middle of the night, sure, but what he was doing didn’t seem to be working. “What do you need?” he asked. “How do I help you?”

Jack tried to answer, but it was really just a whimper, and he held on tighter.

Wait it out, Davey decided. That was all he could do. He continued rubbing his back, rocked him slightly, and waited. After a few minutes, Jack quieted. He stopped shaking, and his breathing—although still shaky—stabilized.

“Hey...” Davey said softly.

“H—hey...” Jack answered in that slightly broken way that comes with a hard cry.

Davey smiled, just glad to hear him talk. He kissed his shoulder and loosened his grip so Jack could move away if he wanted. “How are you doing?”

“I’m, uh...” Jack swallowed thickly. “I’m okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Davey cut him off. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jack shook his head, running the back of his hand over his eyes to push away the lingering tears. “Nah, you don’t wanna hear that shit.”

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” Davey assured him, “but if you think I don’t want to hear it...” He shook his head. “Jack,  _ of course _ I want to know what’s hurting you.”

Jack hesitated for a moment and swallowed again. “It, uh...” He brushed his hand over his eyes. “We were here, an’ everything was normal, Crutchie was in the kitchen,” Jack gestured towards the door, indicating the other room, “and there was a knock on the front door.” Jack’s eyes had gotten a somewhat glassy look to them. “I answered it, and it was the cops.” He swallowed again and brushed the back of his hand across his nose. “They didn’t even tell me what I did, or why, but they—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Davey stopped him before he could get too worked up. “It was just a dream, Jack.”

Jack nodded quickly, shutting his eyes again and gripping some of the fabric of his pajama pants. “I know...”

Davey brushed Jack’s hair away from his eyes. “Do you want to tell me the rest, or no?”

Jack opened his eyes again and shrugged. “It was just...going back, and I didn’t know why, and...” He trailed off into nothing.

Back to jail, Davey realized. Jack had a nightmare about going back to jail.

Davey hadn’t given Jack’s jail time much thought, before. It had always been framed as something with which  _ he _ might have a problem, and he didn’t. Jack, though—it couldn’t have been pleasant for Jack.

Davey took Jack’s face in his hands and kissed his forehead. “You’re not going back.”

Jack took a shaky breath and nodded, remaining quiet.

Davey pulled him back into a hug. “You know I would never judge you, never think less of you as a person for the things you’ve done in the past.”

Jack curled against him and held on tight. “I love you,” he mumbled.

Davey exhaled, not quite a sigh. His heart ached for this incredible person who had survived so much and deserved so much better. “I love you so much, Jack. I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

Jack just held on tighter, burying his face in the crook of Davey’s neck.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” Davey asked.

Jack nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, come on.” Davey stood up, never ceasing contact with Jack entirely.

Once they got back in bed, Jack cuddled up against Davey’s back again, settling an arm around him and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Thank you...” he said quietly.

“Of course,” Davey responded. “I’d do anything for you.”

“Shut up, that’s my line.”

Davey chuckled. “Not tonight. In fact...” He wriggled out of Jack’s arms despite the human backpack’s protests. “Roll over—I get to be big spoon, tonight.”

Jack whined, “No, I’m comfy!”

“I’m taller!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jack argued.

At this point, Davey had rolled over, and Jack hadn’t, so they were facing each other. Davey tapped the tip of Jack’s nose with his index finger.

“It makes more sense for me to be the big spoon, because I’m taller,” Davey explained, much the way he would explain it to a child. “We’ll fit better, and I can be the protector, for once.”

Jack scowled. “I think we fit just fine.”

“Jesus Christ.  _ Let me love you _ .”

Jack sputtered indignantly. “I’m not stopping you! Cuddle position has no bearing on emotion!”

“Fine,” Davey huffed. “If you don’t want me to cuddle you—”

Jack groaned and rolled over. “Fine, fine. Have it your way.”

Davey grinned and snuggled up to Jack’s back. “There. Isn’t that better?”

“No,” Jack grumbled, but he hugged Davey’s arm around him anyway.

Davey kicked lightly at Jack’s legs. “And what about you? Are you feeling better?”

Jack let out a breath. “Yeah...thank you.”

“Like I said, I’d do anything for you.”

“I dunno what I did to deserve you, but I’m sure glad I did it,” Jack chuckled quietly.

“Yeah.” Davey placed a kiss on the back of his neck. “Me, too.”


	56. Jack Is a Middle Aged Lesbian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Davey (independently) reflect on the past and think about the future.

“Where’s David?”

Jack looked up from the coloring page that Mei had insisted they share, pausing his shading in a half-green and half-purple pig. “Oh, he’s not coming today.”

Jackson frowned. “Why not?”

“He’s studying for finals.”  _ And doesn’t want to go out with his face all bruised up _ .

“Sooooo what are we gonna eat?”

“I dunno, what do you wanna eat?” Jack replied with a shrug.

Jackson shrugged as well, then hoisted himself up onto the kitchen island. “I like David better.”

Jack chuckled. “You and me both, kid.”

“What’s he doing with you?” Jackson sneered more than asked. “Are you rich or something?”

This stung more than Jack cared to admit, but he smiled tightly. “Nope, not even a bit.”

Jackson scrunched up his face in distaste. “He’s way too good for you.”

Jack tried not to wince. “Don’t I know it.”

Jackson huffed, hopping down off the counter and heading into the other room.

Mei frowned up at Jack. “You sad?”

He quickly hoisted a smile onto his face. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“Don’ be sad. Sad is bad.”

Jack chuckled. “You’re right. Plus it rhymes, so it’s gotta be true.”

She smiled and giggled, clearly delighted, and went back to coloring.

Jack smiled at her, just quietly watching for a moment before he returned to coloring as well. Surprising to no one, Jack had gotten very attached to these kids very fast—well, the ones that liked him, anyway. He continued to make efforts with Jackson, but the kid would have none of it, seemingly determined to dislike Jack. He certainly had a knack for getting under his skin. Jack tried not to dwell on what he had said about Davey—he  _ was _ too good for him, Jack knew that, and no matter how much he trusted him, he was terrified that at any moment Davey might realize as well and leave.

At a seemingly random point, Mei set down her crayon, finished with her side. She looked up at a Jack again and said something along the lines of, “Pock?”

Jack blinked rather blankly at her. “Do what now?”

“Pock!” she insisted.

Chris’ voice came from the other room. “She wants to go to the park!”

“Ohhh, gotcha.” Jack nodded. “Yeah sure.” He got up from the table and headed for the stairs. “C’mon lets go get your sister.”

Mei tripped along happily after him, and he paused as they passed the living room.

“D’you wanna go, too?” Jack asked Chris, who was watching an episode of How It’s Made about garbage bags.

After a moment’s deliberation, Chris said, “Sure,” and turned off the TV.

Jack nodded. “Cool.”

He headed upstairs to collect Catalina and called towards Jackson’s bedroom. “Hey Jack, c’mon, we’re all going to the park.”

Jackson groaned loudly. “Do I have to?” he called back.

“Are you eighteen?”

“No...”

“Ah, dang, guess you gotta come.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jackson grumbled, unhappily exiting his room.

Jack sighed. “Hate me all you want, kid, but let’s try it without the swearing, huh?”

“You can’t make me.”

He sighed again. “Come on, let’s go.”

It took Jack a minute to figure out the sling wrap for Catalina—the concept was more or less ‘tie the baby to your chest’, so he made it work. The park was only a block or two away, so they didn’t have to take the bus, and it was a warm enough day that the walk over was in fact quite pleasant. Jackson even perked up on the way. He and Chris walked a few yards ahead of Jack and Mei, who was just a little miffed that Jack couldn’t pick her up with Catalina on his chest. The nearby park had one of those nice, wooden playgrounds, rather than a brightly colored plastic affair. There was an obstacle course on one side, with rope bridges and a little zip-line, and all that sort of thing. Mei made a beeline for the swings and made a valiant effort to climb up onto one by herself—she fell twice, but this seemed only to fuel her determination. Once she managed to get herself settled, she called out for someone to come push her, and before Jack had a chance to reach her, Jackson headed over to answer her summons.

The Larkin kids really were something else. They reminded Jack a little bit of Crutchie and himself—family bound by something much stronger than blood. Chris was distressingly mature for his age, which made seeing him actually play on the obstacle course like a twelve-year-old that much better. Jackson, for all his anger, showed a lot of gentleness towards Mei. He was clearly more than a little protective and jealous over her.

Catalina gurgled happily and grabbed at Jack’s shirt, trying to pull it into her mouth. He offered her his hand to chew on rather than his shirt, and found his mind drifting as he absently watched the other three playing. Despite spending a good part of his life caring for other children, he had spent surprisingly little of that time considering the possibility of having children of his own in the future. He’d spent rather little time considering the possibility of a future at all, always focused on the there and then, just making it to the next day. Things were still rather rocky, but his life had stabilized enough that he actually had space and reason to think about those things—a future for himself and the people he loved and things to fill that future with.

Of course, Mei chose this moment to fall out of the swing into the mulch and start crying.

Jack winced and extracted his fingers from Catalina’s mouth as he headed quickly over to set Mei back on her feet and dust her off. “That was a pretty big tumble, kiddo. You should think about a career as a stuntman...woman.”

Jackson scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Mei’s knees and palms were a little scraped up, but she didn’t appear to be bleeding. Jack figured a little soap and water when they got home would do the trick. He had learned years ago that one of the easiest ways to handle a fall or other form of mild injury when dealing with children, was to act like it was no big deal. The more you freaked out, the more the kid freaked out. Mei already seemed to be getting over it, becoming interested in Catalina instead. She reached out and petted her back through the sling.

“Sister,” she said, grinning.

Jack smiled, and Mei, seemingly satisfied with this interaction, trotted off to go climb around on the main structure of the playground. Jack sat down on the now empty swing and kicked off the ground, careful not to go very high, what with the baby strapped to his chest and all. Jackson followed Mei, who quickly began monkeying all around the structure, climbing over things that were and weren’t meant for climbing.

The afternoon passed quite pleasantly. Eventually, the kids got bored of the playground, and went off into the woods that made up the rest of the park. There were some well manicured dirt paths leading through, and a good sized stream that wound lazily through the trees. At one spot, the path cut across the water via a little bridge, and the kids stopped half way over to drop sticks into the water and see whose went faster.

Watching them, Jack found his mind drifting towards how much he had missed out on, growing up. A loving family, fun days at the park, not a care in the world beyond winning whatever the current game was—these were all things that Jack had never had. Of course, he had Crutchie, and if they weren’t family, Jack didn’t know what was, but they’d certainly had plenty of cares and worries, most of them with much higher stakes than any game.

Jack was glad the Larkin children had lucked out as they had. Miss Medda was amazing, she loved them, and she could give them everything they would ever want. He tried not to be jealous, there was no sense in it—his chance for those things was long gone, and the best he could do now was to make do with what he had, and hope that someday he could give the childhood he’d never gotten to children of his own.

* * *

“Oh good, Dave, you’re here,” Romeo began as he answered the door to Elmer’s dorm. “Don’t you agree that Tommy Boy needs a haircoh my god what happened to you?”

Davey sighed, awkwardly shoving his hands in the front pocket of the hoodie he had ‘borrowed’ from Jack. “Oscar and Morris Delancey happened to me.”

Tommy Boy and Elmer looked up at his arrival and quickly gained horrified expressions to match Romeo’s.

“Want us to go fuck ‘em up?” Tommy Boy asked, quickly getting up from his spot on the floor next to Elmer’s bed.

Davey’s eyes widened. “What—no! No. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Romeo rolled his eyes at Tommy Boy. “Besides, you’re about as threatening as, like, half a puppy.”

Tommy Boy sputtered indignantly.

Davey snickered, stepping into the dorm room. “What are we doing?”

“Not fighting the Delanceys, apparently.” Tommy Boy grumbled, and Romeo rolled his eyes again.

“Yeah okay tiger, why don’t you take all that aggression and see if maybe you can actually win a round, huh?” He gestured to Elmer’s small TV that was set up on top of his dresser, where a paused game of GoldenEye 007 was displayed on the screen. 

“Oh, screw you.” Tommy Boy pouted, but did what he was told.

“We only got the two controllers, so we’re taking turns,” Elmer told Davey, wiggling the controller in his hand to illustrate.

“Sure.” Davey took a seat on Elmer’s bed to watch.

The game was a rather outdated first person shooter, and the freshmen had made up a good number of ridiculous rules that made the game much more complex than necessary, like you could only shoot if you were off the ground, on furniture, or rocks, or other various things in the map. Davey tried to pay attention to the rules and the controls, but his mind kept wandering. He’d never been particularly social, especially not as an adult. Were these friendships built to last the summer? Was he going to have to start all over again, in the fall?

“Dude, what’s with your face?” Romeo asked.

Davey frowned. “I already told you—”

“No no no.” Romeo waved his hand dismissively. “You look like you just ate something real sour or whatever.”

“Oh.” Davey shook his head. “No, I was just thinking.”

“No shit,” Romeo snickered. “What about?”

“Summer.” Not a lie. “Do any of you have plans? Vacations or anything?”

Romeo and Tommy Boy shook their heads, 

“My family always goes to Colorado to visit my uncle, but only for two weeks,” Elmer explained.

Davey nodded. “My parents always hold a big family reunion Fourth of July party.”

“Ooh, that sounds fun,” Elmer said.

“It is fun,” Davey agreed. “It’s the only time I get to see my extended family, most years.”

Romeo nodded. “Everyone lives real far away, or you just don’t like each other?”

“A combination,” Davey chuckled. “My uncle and his family are cool but live in Wisconsin. My aunt lives in New Jersey but keeps pressuring me to bring home a nice girl and settle down already.”

Elmer nodded. “Jack seems nice, but I dunno if he’d pass for a girl.”

“I don’t know; I think he could pull it off,” Tommy Boy countered. “I mean, maybe not as Dave’s girlfriend, but like, as someone’s lesbian aunt, maybe.”

Romeo let out a snort of laughter while Davey just grinned and shook his head. He proceeded to send a text to Jack.

“ _ The entourage thinks I could pass you off to my family as a middle-aged lesbian _ .”

The freshmen fell into a lively debate concerning which of them would be the easiest to pass off as a girl, and the much protested consensus was Elmer.

“You’re approximately average height for a woman,” Davey pointed out.

Elmer sputtered indignantly. “So’s Romeo!”

“No, Romeo’s tiny.”

Now it was Romeo’s turn for indignance. “I’m not  _ that _ short!”

Davey poked his shoulder, grinning even wider than before. “That’s a lot of anger for such a small child.”

And Romeo was off on an emphatic tirade about genetics and unfair advantage, frequently returning to the point of Davey being a giant bean pole who couldn’t have an objective view.

Mid-tirade, Davey was distracted by his phone lighting up with a text from Jack.

“ _ A middle-aged lesbian? _ ”

Davey had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. “ _ I believe ‘someone’s lesbian aunt’ was the terminology they used _ .”

“ _ ??? _ ” Another text immediately buzzed in. “ _ wait am I  _ your _ aunt in this scenario? _ “

“ _ I don’t know, and at this point, I don’t particularly want to. _ ”

Davey had mostly checked out of the conversation, but he definitely heard the word ‘leprechaun’, and then Romeo was off on another tirade. 

“ _ Why would we be trying to pass me off as your or anyone else’s lesbian aunt, anyway? And I do  _ not _ look middle-aged _ .”

“ _ Because  _ my _ aunt is unlikely to take kindly to me having a boyfriend _ .”

Romeo and Tommy Boy were now standing back to back while Elmer compared their heights. Tommy Boy wasn’t particularly tall, himself, but he was definitely taller than Romeo.

“ _ And me being a lesbian helps that how? _ ”

“ _ I don’t know, Jack. They’re idiots, but they’re mine _ .”

“ _ Seems you have quite the knack for attracting idiots _ ”

Davey smiled. “ _ It’s a blessing _ .”

“ _ so’s your face _ ”

Shit. He was definitely blushing now, wasn’t he? “ _ You’re ridiculous, and I love you _ .”

“ _ Well yeah, duh _ .“

“‘S’at your lesbian aunt?” Tommy Boy’s voice broke through.

Davey looked up. “How’d you know?”

Tommy Boy gestured towards Davey’s face. “You got that look.”

“What look?”

“You know, the face,” he repeated unhelpfully.

Romeo snickered. “The ‘ _ Ooh, Jack’s so dreamy, I’m so in love with him _ ’ face.”

Davey rolled his eyes. “First of all, I  _ am _ in love with him. Second—”

“Hasn’t been four months, yet,” Romeo interjected.

“Oh my god.”

Romeo held his hands out placatingly. “Hey, man, don’t blame me; it’s science.”

“Shut up, Romeo. They’re cute,” Elmer argued.

“Science doesn’t stop for ‘cute’,” Romeo replied plainly, and Tommy Boy smacked the back of his head. 

“Let Dave be happy, dammit!”

“I  _ am _ happy,” Davey assured him. “Nothing Romeo says is going to change how I feel about Jack.”

“Good,” Elmer said. “You seem real happy with him.”

Tommy Boy died in the game and held his controller out to Davey. “You wanna play?”

Davey shrugged, “Sure,” and accepted the controller.

He was up against Romeo, who was currently making ‘club music’ by going, “Oontz oontz oontz oontz,” and making his character run in a circle, crouching repeatedly, to ‘dance’.

Davey couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Victory dance!” Romeo shouted before immediately going back to ‘oontz’ing, and at the same time Elmer gasped loudly.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard Dave swear!”

“What? I swear!” Davey laughed.

“No, you don’t!”

“I do, too!”

“You do not!” Elmer crossed his arms, giving Davey that look that one has when they’re certain they’re about to prove someone wrong. “List one swear. I bet you don’t even know any.”

Davey sputtered in confusion. “You just heard me say, ‘fuck’.”

“Fine. Name another one.”

“Shit.”

Elmer gasped again, pressing a hand to his heart like a deeply shocked and offended southern church lady.

“Can we just have Dave recite curse words for the next half hour?” Romeo snickered.

“All in favor,” Tommy Boy said, and all three freshmen raised their hands.

For the first time in his life, Davey was starting to regret being a loner for the last five years. Being with friends, being silly, being  _ himself _ —he’d been missing all of it, and he couldn’t those years back. What he could do, he supposed, was not make the same mistake going forward.

“Oh, hey—new rule!” Tommy Boy shouted. “You can’t shoot unless you swear!”

Davey sighed, “Damn,” and shot Romeo.


	57. Headline News: Jack Fucks Up Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Davey go on a date. It doesn’t exactly end as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you have probably noticed the considerable slowing of updates, do not be alarmed. I have simply started my last semester of college (omg) and am shorter on time, but not at all on interest in continuing this story.

Walking out of the art building with a grin on his face, Jack pulled out his phone to shoot a text to Davey, and the same to his friends’ group-chat. “ _ Just finished my last final ever _ ” He sent another immediately. “ _ Now we just gotta wait and see if I passed everything, and then I’m freeeeeee _ ”

The group chat immediately blew up with messages ranging from Buttons’, “ _ Congratulations!!! _ ” to Albert’s, “ _ yeah but what are the odds of you actually passing everything _ ,” but he only paid much attention to Davey’s message.

“ _ Congratulations, Jacky. I’m so proud of you _ ,” with a blue heart emoji on the end.

Jack’s grin spread wider and he sent a middle finger emoji to the group chat before responding to Davey.

“ _ You free for lunch? _ ”

“ _ Yes. My last final was Saturday, and I could use a break from packing. Where do you want to go? _ ”

“ _ What sort of sadist schedules a final on a weekend?? _ ” He continued, “ _ I dunno, are you tired of Jacobi’s yet? _ ”

(Jack was the sort of person to double, triple, or even quadruple text, rather than send everything in one larger message.)

“ _ I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of Jacobi’s, but are you? You’re the one who lives here _ .”

Jack’s smile faltered briefly at the reminder that Davey would be leaving to go back upstate soon. “ _ Nah, they change the menu enough to keep it interesting _ “

“ _ Okay. I’ll meet you there _ .”

It was a twenty minute walk from where he was to Jacobi’s, so Jack sent Davey his ETA and headed off at a brisk walk. It was a rather nice day, perhaps made nicer by the prospect of no more school ever again. Of course, that prospect came with a big ol’ catch—real, proper adulthood. Miss Medda paid Jack well to watch the kids, and between that, his part-time job at the auto shop, and Crutchie’s part-time job at the library, they might be able to spin it. Sure, they’d been struggling to pay rent, but with Jack out of college, he wouldn’t have to buy any more textbooks or school supplies. Maybe, if he had more  _ time _ for his art, he could get it off the ground. It’s not like he needed it to blow up, but a little extra income would be nice.

When Jack finally arrived at Jacobi’s, Davey was already there, sitting in a booth off to the side. He smiled at Jack when he saw him come in. Jack smiled warmly in return, and headed towards him.

“Hey baby,” he greeted him, leaning over to drop a kiss on Davey’s forehead before sitting down in the booth opposite him.

“How does it feel to never have to take another final again?” Davey asked.

Jack let out a relieved huff of breath. “Don’t jinx it. I dunno if I passed yet.”

“Of course, you passed,” Davey chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“I hope so,” Jack replied. His worry was only partially modesty and humor; he was an artist—good enough to have gotten a few scholarships himself, concerning that area of expertise—but he had never been all that good in the more academic areas. He passed his classes, yes, but usually with a rather low grade.

“Well, we should probably order food instead of just sitting here like freeloaders,” Davey suggested, standing up and pausing briefly to brush off his shirt. He was wearing his glasses, and Jack got the feeling he was doing so to detract from what was left of the bruises on his face.

Jack stood as well, moving to Davey’s side and taking his hand as they walked up to the counter. Even though it had been a while now, he was still so relieved to be able to touch Davey again. Jack had noticed him starting to touch other people, too—Crutchie and Spot, namely. Davey didn’t seem to realize he was doing it.

Jack twined their fingers together and raised their joined hands briefly to kiss the back of Davey’s hand. “You know what you’re gettin’?” he asked, looking up towards the chalkboard menu up on the wall behind the counter.

“Minestrone,” Davey said, smirking. “It’s a soupy kind of day.”

Jack laughed. “Shut up, you’re adorable.”

“I’m serious!”

“I assume you’ve already done your research as far as ingredients go?” Jack teased, bumping his hip sideways against Davey’s.

Davey raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve gotten minestrone here, before.”

Jack frowned slightly in the way one does when thinking they had remembered something, but perhaps not. “I thought you got the vegetarian soup? Shit, those aren’t the same thing are they?”

“This isn’t the second time I’ve come here, Jack,” Davey laughed, then bumped him with his shoulder. “You’re sweet, but yes, I’ve checked the ingredients.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

Stacy was absolutely delighted to see them, asking them about finals and plans for the summer as she rang up their orders. Jack didn’t have many answers to provide, and mostly just listened to Davey talk vaguely about family plans. This stung in more ways than one, but Jack tried his best to push it away. He was glad Davey had a real family, he was glad he had plans, and somewhere stable to go back to.

Jack quickly pulled an easy smile onto his face when Davey looked towards him as he said he’d be coming to visit over the summer.

“You two are so cute,” Stacy giggled as she handed back their change.

Jack shot her a quick smile and a ‘thank you’ as the two collected their tray and returned to their booth.

“So uh,” Jack began, trying very hard to sound more casual and relaxed than he actually was. “When are you leaving?”

“Thursday,” Davey told him.

Jack bit back a wince. Four days, if he counted today. “Thursday morning, or...?”

Davey shrugged. “I’m not sure. Probably?”

Make that three days.

Jack nodded, very careful to keep his disappointment off his face. It was all gonna be fine, it wasn’t like Davey was full on moving, they weren’t breaking up, it barely even counted as long distance, and it was only for the summer.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?” He had been staring at the table aimlessly, and quickly pulled his gaze up to Davey’s.

Davey smiled gently and reached across the table for Jack’s hand. “I’m not leaving forever. I won’t even be that far away.”

So maybe Jack wasn’t as good at hiding his feelings that he thought, or maybe Davey was really good at reading him.

Jack reached over to twine their fingers together. “I know. I’m being dumb.”

“You’re not,” Davey assured him. “You’re just...sad, and I don’t like it.”

Jack offered a gentle smile. “I’ll be fine.” He chuckled wryly. “And you said  _ you’re _ dependent on  _ me _ .”

“We’re dependent on each other, and I’m going to miss you,” Davey sighed lightly.

“I’m gonna miss you, too...”

“It’s just three months.”

“Yeah, but that’s forever,” Jack whined. Hell, ‘just three months’ was the amount of time he and Davey had known each other.

Davey rolled his eyes fondly. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Jack huffed. “I always notice when you’re gone.”

Davey just smiled at him, but damn, was it a good smile. It was small and sweet, and Jack would never quite get over Davey Jacobs looking at him like that, like he was something amazing.

Jack let out a quiet breath, not quite a sigh. “You know I’m in love with you, right?”

Davey blushed. “You have me pretty convinced that you are.”

Jack smiled. “Good.”

“Do you know that I’m in love with you, too?”

His smile twisted up a bit at one corner. “Well, I do now.”

“Shut up,” Davey laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey don’t blame me, you’re the one that signed up for this shitshow.” Jack replied, shooting Davey a wink.

“It’s a  _ very _ entertaining show,” Davey replied.

Jack snickered “Anything for you, babe.”

* * *

Davey liked dating Jack. He loved everything for and about and with Jack, of course, but  _ dating _ was special. It made him feel special, that Jack wanted to take him places and be with him and be seen with him. Plus, the actual point of dating was to be together and pay attention to each other. Studying and sleeping and going about life together was great in its own way, of course, but...well, you get the idea.

Jack always walked Davey home, and Davey appreciated that little bit of extra time more than he could say. They walked back to Davey’s dorm holding hands, talking about unimportant things they saw along the way, and holy shit, Davey was happy—just happy, completely content. He wanted to hold hands with Jack for the rest of his life.

Jack was in the middle of some nonsense spiel that had originally been about how it was always nice to see all the plants waking up from the winter, and was now about what sort of ‘vibe’ Jack thought different trees had, gesturing grandly with his hand that wasn’t clasped in Davey’s, and everything felt so right—being out on a normal day, having a normal date with this beautiful, ridiculous man that he had somehow gotten lucky enough to find. He was, as always, genuinely sad to get back to his building, but then Jack insisted on walking him all the way to his door.

“You in such a rush to get rid of me?” Jack teased, lightly bumping Davey with his shoulder.

“Oh yeah, always,” Davey quipped right back, faking exasperation.

Jack clicked his tongue reproachfully. “Well, then you’re gonna have to try harder.”

They made their way inside and up the stairs, which still made Davey a little wary after the incident with the Delanceys. Spot and Davey’s dorm was a good ways down the hall and around the corner. Thankfully, his old dorm was further on, so as long as he didn’t take the elevator, Davey didn’t have to pass it on his way coming or going. Of course, there was always the worry of running into  _ them _ on the stairs or in the hall, but as long as they lived in the same building, there was only so much Davey could do. It was always a relief to get out of the stairwell, though. In the hallway, he was within Spot’s earshot.

At least, it was  _ usually _ a relief to get out of the stairwell. When he and Jack turned the corner and saw the Delanceys just leaving their room, Davey nearly stumbled. Every muscle in his body tensed. He was  _ scared _ . He pressed himself close to Jack’s side and kept his eyes on the floor. He felt Jack tense next to him, and he let go of Davey’s hand to put his arm around his shoulders, briefly pulling him closer to press a kiss to his temple.

“Gimme a sec,” Jack said as he dropped his arm and continued down the hallway as if no one else was there, leaving Davey by the corner.

“Jack?” Davey asked meekly, frowning up at him as he walked away, but Jack didn't answer or look back at him. The Delancey's looked over at the sound of Davey's voice, having not immediately noticed them, and a smug, cruel smile slid onto Oscar's face. Jack continued towards them at a relaxed pace, and Morris chuckled.

“Hey Oscar, look. Dave brought his little—” And Jack's fist cracked across his jaw before he had a chance to finish his thought.

Davey gasped. “Jack!”

Morris reeled from the blow, stumbling back a step or two and putting a hand to his jaw, shocked, but Jack didn't give him a chance to process what was happening before he lunged for him, driving a tight, short punch into his midsection, just under his rib cage. This knocked him back another step, and Jack turned his attention to Oscar, who had caught up with the situation and was moving to retaliate. He took a swing at Jack, catching the edge of his jaw, right by his ear, and Jack’s head snapped hard to the side. He took another swing, landing a sharp uppercut just below Jack’s sternum, but at his next strike, Jack managed to jerk backwards out of the way, and Oscar’s fist swung harmlessly in front of him. As his momentum carried through, Jack took the opportunity to get ahold of his shirt, by his shoulder, and jerked him forwards, driving his knee up into Oscar’s stomach.

Davey couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Sure, he’d seen Jack punch Albert, but that was nothing like this. This time, he was out for blood. “Jack!” Davey shouted again.

By all appearances, Jack didn’t hear Davey, or maybe couldn’t. He shoved Oscar away from him, knocking him briefly against the wall. It seemed Morris had recovered from the initial assault, and, as Jack turned towards him again, he slammed his fist into the side of Jack’s head, and Jack was knocked momentarily off balance. Morris landed another hook on his side, at the bottom of his ribs, and Jack staggered briefly. Morris let fly with another strike to Jack’s midsection, but Jack took this one more solidly, and he caught Morris’s arm before he could pull away. Taking a quick step around him, Jack wrenched Morris’s arm up at an unnatural angle behind his back, and he probably would have broken it if Oscar hadn’t crashed into him, driving his shoulder into Jack’s abdomen and knocking him away.

A couple people opened their doors to see what the commotion was, one of them being—

“What the fuck!?”

Spot was on them in a second, pulling Jack away by the back of his shirt and fending off Oscar with a sturdy shove to the chest. “What are you  _ doing? _ ”

“He just fuckin’ attacked us out of nowhere!” Oscar accused, breathing heavily.

Jack practically tore himself out of Spot’s grip to lunge at Oscar again, but Spot got in the way. Despite his small stature, the boy might as well have been a brick wall. Davey’s feet finally decided to cooperate with the situation, and he bolted down the hall and grabbed Jack’s arm to gently pull him back. Jack was seething, lips pulled back in a snarl like a rabid animal. Even just holding his arm, Davey could feel Jack straining, every bit of him taught and coiled like a spring.

“ _ Jack _ ,” Davey repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

Jack was breathing heavily, and there was a look in his eye Davey had never seen before. It was honestly kind of scary. It was like he couldn’t even hear Davey, couldn’t even feel Davey’s hand on his arm.

“David, what happened?” Spot asked.

Davey shook his head. “I don’t know. He just—...”

Every couple of seconds, Jack tried to pull away from Davey, but not very hard. So long as Davey kept a tight hold on Jack’s arm, he didn’t go very far. His gaze was locked on the Delanceys, darting back and forth between them with rage burning hot behind his eyes.

Spot shook his head and turned to the Delancey’s. “Go to the lounge. Cool off. We’ll be there in a minute and work this out.”

Grumbling, they headed down the hall, shooting murderous looks back at Jack as they went. As they took off, Jack again strained briefly against Davey’s grasp, clearly wanting to follow them.

As soon as the Delancey’s were out of sight, Spot rounded on Jack. “What the fuck are you thinking, you absolute  _ moron!? _ You are  _ not _ one of my residents; it is not my job to protect you!”

“You shoulda stayed out of it then,” Jack snarled at him.

_ This isn’t Jack _ , Davey thought.  _ This isn’t  _ my _ Jack. _ He let go of his arm and took a step back.

Spot snarled back, “You are so lucky I’m not calling the cops on you, right now.”

“Then fuckin’ do it!” Jack took a half a step towards Spot, looking for all the world like he was going to take a swing at him, next.

“Jack, stop it!” Davey shouted.

It seemed his voice had finally broken through, because Jack faltered, deflating the tiniest bit so he looked threatening rather than murderous. He was still breathing heavy, more with anger than exertion.

“You wanna fight me?” Spot asked, voice low and dangerously calm. “Fine. I’ll fight you. But I  _ will _ press charges, with David as my witness.”

Jack ground his teeth together, his tightly fisted hands shaking slightly at his sides, but he remained still and quiet.

Spot shifted his focus onto Davey. “Are you okay, David?”

Davey nodded hesitantly. Jack was trembling, fighting to get his breathing even, and glaring at the wall over Spot’s shoulder as if he was trying to burn holes in it with his gaze. Davey wanted to fix it, fix him, but he didn’t know how. He didn’t know what would happen if he reached out. After a moment, he turned back to Spot and shook his head instead.

Spot sighed. “Why don’t you go to the room, huh? We’ll be there soon, but I gotta try and mediate for these morons.”

Davey looked to Jack. He knew he really shouldn’t leave him to Spot and the Delanceys. In the end, this was about Davey. He should be there...but, on the other hand, he didn’t know if he could face the Delanceys again. Not yet. He looked back to Spot. “Okay.”

* * *

“Okay so what happened?” Spot asked, sounding irritated and tired as he sat on one of the couches that populated the lounge. Morris and Oscar had occupied chairs, but Jack refused a seat, electing instead to pace shortly around the other side of the room.

“We were just minding our own business,” Morris said, gesturing at Jack, “when this fag and his little slut came up and—”

Jack whirled and started towards him, snarling, with every intention of snapping whatever limb he could get ahold of first. “If you don’t shut your fucking mouth—“

Spot stood up and blocked him. “Be nice,” he snapped over his shoulder at Morris, who sputtered angrily.

“He’s the one who started punching!”

“Like you punched David the other day?” Spot asked. “Don’t think I don’t know about that.”

Jack ground his teeth, fighting to keep ahold of himself. At first, when they’d rounded the corner, Jack didn’t understand why Davey suddenly cowered against him, but when he looked up and recognized the Delancey’s, he saw red. Everything got that weird, muted, bit-too-warm way it did when he got really mad, and everything seemed very calm and straightforward on his end of things, but he knew that wasn’t how it really was. Jack was very well aware of his issues with anger. It honestly wasn’t universally easy to get Jack mad—he had a very thick skin—but there were some things that even just the slightest touch set him out for blood. Knowing you have a problem and being able to handle that problem, however, are two very different things.

“No, you know what these fags  _ told _ you,” Oscar argued, indicating Jack and Davey. “It’s their word against ours.”

Spot once again had to physically prevent Jack from lunging over the small coffee table towards them. Jack was usually rather quick witted, ready to easily dish out as much snark and venom as he took, but when he was this angry, all bets were off. Things got real plain and simple, but in a concerningly violent, animalistic sort of way.

“Yeah, whose side are you on, Conlon?” Morris asked, baring his teeth. He gestured to Jack. “He doesn’t even live here.”

“I’m on David’s side,” Spot snapped.

Oscar scoffed. “Of course he’s on the fag’s side; he understands.”

“Watch it,” Spot growled.

Oscar did not watch it. He continued, “He’s gone and bedded the dumbest slut in all of New York.”

There was the briefest of pauses as something dark flashed through Spot’s eyes, and then Oscar was on the floor, knocked down by the force of Spot’s right hook cracking against his left cheek.

* * *

Davey Jacobs had always been high strung. It was one of his primary character traits, to be honest. Crippling anxiety? That was new. After the semester he’d had, he needed some serious fucking therapy, and he knew that, he just didn’t know how to ask for it. He probably wouldn’t. He’d probably wallow in it for five years, then word-vomit it to some poor guy he’d just met, like he did with all his trauma. 

Of course, he hoped there wouldn’t be another poor guy in five years. He hoped there would be Jack—the Jack he knew and loved, not whoever just attacked the Delanceys in the hallway like an animal. It had been downright  _ scary _ , the way Jack looked at them, the way he didn’t respond to Davey’s pleas. It wasn’t Jack. Jack wasn’t like that...except when he was, apparently.

Hence, Davey found himself sitting on his bed with his legs folded into his chest, staring at his quilt and thinking way too much. He was startled out of his contemplation by the door buzzing and then opening. Spot came in, with Jack after him, and for a moment, Davey was shocked speechless. They were both in considerably worse shape than when Davey had left them in the hall. There was blood on Jack’s face, probably originating from the split in his bottom lip. His shirt looked rather rumpled, and there was a bruise developing on the side of his jaw. Spot didn’t look much better, with the beginnings of a large bruise at his temple and a bloody nose.

Davey was instantly on his feet. “What the—”

Spot headed for the bathroom, and Jack moved to slump into the nearer desk chair, shoving it back against the wall as he landed. He looked exhausted, as well as battered and bloodied.

“Jack,” Davey knelt down one front of him, “what the hell happened?”

Jack sighed, leaning back against the back of the chair and sort of half shrugging. “They kept talkin’ shit, and then Oscar brought Race into it, so Spot got mad, too, an’ we thumped ‘em.”

“You did  _ what? _ ” Davey’s eyes widened, and he looked towards the bathroom door. Everyone knew Spot Conlon had a mean streak, but Davey never expected him to take it out on any of his residents, no matter what. Then again, Spot Conlon had a mean streak  _ and _ a major soft spot for Racetrack Higgins. Davey shook his head. “Jack, we’ve talked about this.”

Jack sighed again, dropping his head back against the wall and shutting his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He sounded more tired than sorry, and Davey didn’t like that at all.

Davey stood up. “You didn’t listen to me, Jack. You weren’t listening to me.”

Jack opened his eyes and sat back up, looking at Davey. “Dave, I told you I wasn’t gonna be okay with—”

“ _ I don’t care _ ,” Davey snapped. “I don’t care. I want...people to  _ listen _ to me when I speak, for God’s sake. I told you to stop.” He was getting worked up fast and took a deep breath to keep calm.

Jack looked a bit startled and more than a bit hurt. He took a breath like he was going to say something, but nothing came out and he dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Davey deflated. He didn’t want to make Jack upset, it was just— “Why didn’t you listen to me?”

Jack pressed his lips together for a moment. “Polite, or honest?”

Davey let out a single, humorless chuckle. “Honest.”

Jack sat back against the chair again, this time maintaining eye contact. “I didn’t care.” He held his hands up quickly, much like one does when trying to approach a spooked animal. “No, that’s not right; I  _ did _ care, I always care about what you have to say, but it wasn’t—” Another sigh. “Dave, they hurt you. And I wasn’t there to stop it.” The ‘again’ remained unsaid, but it was there, plain as day. “I couldn’t just—” He gestured uselessly in front of himself. “I can’t—”

Davey shook his head in exasperated disbelief. “You have to  _ think _ , Jack. What if they called the police? How do you protect me, then? What happens to Crutchie?”

“I know,” Jack groaned. “Dammit, I know.” He took a huffy breath, scowling at the floor now. “But I can’t—...” He trailed off, clearly unable to find the words to explain himself.

“Jack...” Davey hesitated, and he hesitated hard. He didn’t want to say what he had to say next. He didn’t want to think it. Most of all, he didn’t want to mean it. “Jack, I am  _ scared _ of the person I saw out there.”

Jack looked up at him sharply, and Davey could see a bit of fear behind his eyes, as well, though it was certainly a different kind of fear. “Davey, I wouldn’t—”

“Why not? Why Albert and the Delanceys but not me? Why am I so special?”

He let out a rough breath. “For fuck’s sake, Dave, that ain’t how it works. It’s entirely different.”

Davey huffed. He didn’t understand  _ how _ , but he clearly wasn’t getting anywhere. “I’m going to check on Spot.”

Jack sighed yet again, quietly, and nodded, gaze dropping to the carpet again.

Davey headed to the bathroom, partially to check on Spot and partially just to breathe for a second. He knocked on the door. “Spot?”

“Yeah?”

Davey could hear running water, but it sounded more like the sink than the shower, and the bathroom door had been left a few inches open. He stepped just inside the door. “You okay?”

Spot was at the sink, washing off the results of his bloody nose. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He shot a glance towards Davey in the mirror. “Are you?”

“Getting there.” Davey moved to grab one of his washcloths from under the sink and placed it under the running tap. “That was a bad call for you, you know.”

Spot let out a short, humorless chuckle. “Yeah, no shit.”

Davey cast him a sympathetic glance in the mirror and returned to the room. Jack was still sitting in the chair by the wall, looking at the floor, and the blood on the lower half of his face was smeared now. A matching red stain on the back of his hand showed an attempt at cleaning up that clearly didn’t work. Davey let out a low breath and walked back over to him. 

“Here.” He began to gently wipe off Jack’s face with the washcloth.

Jack tilted his face up towards Davey, keeping a very neutral expression on, but even through so little contact, Davey could feel how tense he still was.

“Are you okay?” Davey asked softly. He was more than a little ashamed to realize he hadn’t asked yet.

“I’m fine,” Jack mumbled, but he didn’t sound very certain.

“No you’re not.”

He sighed, meeting Davey’s eyes again, and he just looked  _ so _ tired. “What do you want me to say, Davey?” He raised his arms a bit and then dropped them in a display of defeated acceptance. “Headline news: Jack fucked up again.”

Davey brushed his free hand over Jack’s hair and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “Let’s just get you cleaned up, okay?”

Jack bit back yet another tired sigh and nodded his head, and Davey felt a little tug on his heart. He winced. Logically, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He had been honest and said what he needed to say. He shouldn’t have felt bad, but he did. It wasn’t his fault, but it was.

He could deal with all that, later. Right now, Jack was hurt.

Jack stayed quiet while Davey cleaned the blood off his face, tilting his head as directed by Davey’s free hand so he could better assess the damage. It wasn’t too bad, but it wasn’t good.

“I’d hate to see how Oscar and Morris look,” Davey muttered.

Jack let out a short, barely amused huff. “Yeah...” He didn’t provide any detail or clarification, and Davey wasn’t sure if that was for his sake or for Jack’s.

Davey sighed lightly. “I should have gone to the administration when they hurt me. I just...” He sighed again.

“You still could.” Jack gestured vaguely towards Davey’s face, where the evidence of his altercation in the stairwell with the Delanceys had paled, but not disappeared.

Davey shrugged. “My word against theirs, no witnesses.”

“Guess that’s fair...”

Davey took Jack’s hand to wipe the blood off the back of it. “I maybe could have proven it, last week, but not anymore. I shouldn’t have let them get away with it.”

“Yeah...” Jack let out a quiet huff, sounding disturbingly almost proud. “Doubt they’ll try it again.”

Davey gritted his teeth. “If they do, I’ll tell the administration, instead of you and Spot going all vigilante on me.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a better idea.”

Davey smiled a little in sympathy and brushed his thumb over the bruise on Jack’s jaw, which was starting to swell. “You need an ice pack.”

Jack let out a quiet, amused huff. “What, you don’t wanna leave it so I can be all beat up and cool?” he teased.

Davey chuckled. “I want you not to hurt, dummy.”

Jack smiled, a small, genuine one this time, and reached out to take Davey’s hand. “You missed that boat by about twenty years, babe.”

“What are you, emo, now?” Davey went to the tiny freezer atop his and Spot’s mini-fridge and retrieved a bag of pizza rolls. “Spot, I’m using your pizza rolls as an ice pack. I’ll buy you more, later.”

Jack laughed. “I’d look damn good in eyeliner and you know it.”

“Mm, I don’t know about that.” Davey wrapped the bag of pizza rolls in the dish towel he left on top of the microwave and pressed it against Jack’s jaw. “You might have to prove it.”

Jack winced briefly at the pressure. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“I would never.”


	58. Today, Everything Is Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day Jack has been waiting for finally arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave us hell and back.

“Jack what the hell are you doing?” Crutchie demanded, hitting the bathroom door with his cane. “You’ve been in there  _ forever _ .” 

Jack looked away from the mirror briefly to unlatch the door and kick it open. “Would you keep it down? I’m trying to concentrate.”

Crutchie’s jaw dropped. “Okay, ignore what I said before. Jack, what the  _ fuck _ are you doing?”

Jack grinned, focusing on aiming the tip of the recently purchased eyeliner pen. “Dave’s about to lose a bet.”

“You look like a raccoon.”

“Shut up, it’s hard.” Jack got closer to the mirror, and made that weird, crumply, open-mouthed face that people do when putting on eyeliner or mascara.

Crutchie tried to keep an amused snort quiet, but it just prolonged it. “Is that supposed to help?”

“Girls do it, shut up,” Jack retorted.

“Jack, you’re an  _ artist _ , this should be  _ easy _ .”

“Well I don’t draw on my eyes now do I?”

Crutchie smirked, turning back to head towards the kitchen. “When’s Dave coming over?”

“Hopefully before I stab myself in the eye with this thing,” Jack grumbled, glaring at the eyeliner in his hand.

Crutchie snickered. “Better hurry!”

Jack grumbled nonsense, and promptly stabbed himself in the eye with that thing. “ _ FU—” _

* * *

“Hey, baby!” Jack exclaimed cheerfully as Davey entered the unlocked apartment.

Davey looked at him, sighed, and walked back out.

Crutchie burst into laughter as Jack squawked in wordless indignance, and chased after Davey. “Wh— Babe, nooo!”

Jack found Davey in the hallway, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

“You look ridiculous.”

Jack pouted. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“You’re always pretty,” Davey conceded, walking over to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “Now get that shit off your face.”

Jack snickered, stealing another quick kiss before starting to turn to retreat towards the bathroom sink, but the look on Davey’s face stopped him in his tracks. He looked sort of shocked and bewildered at first, and then he was blushing and grinning like an idiot.

Jack blinked, frowning a bit in confusion. “Babe...?

“Sorry,” Davey laughed, closing his eyes and shaking his head quickly. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Wh—“ Jack’s eyes widened in dawning horror, and he continued in a rush. “ _ Shit _ ,  I didn’t ask. Was that okay? I’m sorry I—”

Davey reached out and grabbed his shoulders, still laughing. “Jack!”

Jack’s sentence stumbled to a stop and it connected in his brain that Davey was happy. A small smile spread across Jack’s face, and he moved to quickly but gently cup the side of Davey’s jaw in his hand, and pull him in for another kiss, this one more lingering, but still light, and a bit careful.

“Love you,” Davey murmured, kissing him back harder.

A pretzel came flying into the hallway, along with a cry of, “Get a room!”

Jack burst into laughter as they broke apart. “Bitch, you’re  _ in _ the room!”

He briefly took Davey’s hand to pull him into the apartment, nudging the door shut after them and then headed for the bathroom to wash the eyeliner off his face. He could hear Davey and Crutchie in the living room, having some sort of pleasant conversation. Jack was starting to think they would have made good friends, even if he was never in the picture.

It took a minute for him to get all the eyeliner properly washed off—it hadn’t occurred to him to buy any makeup wipes—and by the time he returned to the living room, his eyelids felt a little raw from the scrubbing. “How the hell do girls do that every day?”

“Was it waterproof?” Davey asked, snickering.

“I don’t know,” Jack grumbled, “I went to the makeup aisle and grabbed the cheapest pencil-looking thing I saw.”

Davey and Crutchie we’re sitting on either side of the couch facing each other, with their legs propped up in between, reminding Jack of every teenage girl sleepover he had ever seen in movies and TV.

He smiled fondly at them and walked over to flop into the armchair. “Thank god I’m too pretty for makeup.”

Crutchie smiled crookedly. “You’re lucky it came off and you don’t have to graduate like that, tomorrow.”

Jack scoffed, amused. “Yeah, that would totally ruin my dignified reputation.”

“Are you excited?” Davey asked.

Another scoff, this one less amused. “Not particularly.”

“Why not?”

Jack shifted back into the corner of the chair and swung his legs up over the arm. “I’ll have to start doing like, career stuff. It’s gonna be an uphill battle to get any sort of audience for my shit, but I also gotta get a steady income in the meantime.” He shrugged. “I’m not gonna have time for anything.”

“As if you have time for anything, right now,” Crutchie pointed out. “Plus, no homework.”

Jack sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So what’s this really about, huh?” Crutchie, who had been sitting with his back to the chair, rolled over like a log so he was on his stomach on the couch, facing Jack.

Jack frowned slightly. “What’s what about?”

“You being all mopey the night before  _ college graduation _ .” Crutchie put a lot of emphasis on those words by patting his hands against the arm of the couch. “You never have to take another class again in your  _ whole entire life _ .”

Jack made a wordless, dismissive sound. “It’s not that big a deal, I’m gonna stand in a crowd for, like, an hour, then some pretentious shit is gonna hand me a piece of paper and shake my hand, and then I can spend the rest of my life paying for that piece of paper.”

“It  _ is _ a big deal, Jack,” Davey protested. “College is hard.”

“I mean, yeah, it’s just...” Jack trailed off. The reality of the situation was that he was scared. He’d never had any real stability or assurance in life, and the years he’d spent in college had been about the most solid set of guidelines or reliability he ever had, and the thought of losing that was scary.

Crutchie seemed to pick up on his discomfort and concluded. “The point is, we’re proud of you.”

Jack forced a smile that was honestly genuine, it was just having a bit of trouble getting off the ground. “Thanks, Crutchie.”

“Do we need anything else for the party?” Davey asked.

Jack laughed lightly. “Guys, come on, we don’t have to have—”

He was cut off by various iterations of ‘shut up, of course we do’, and he threw his hands up in fond exasperation. “Fine! Fine, you win.”

Crutchie turned back to Davey and nodded. “I gave Mush and Smalls a key. They’re gonna come in and decorate during the ceremony. Did you ask Spot about picking up the cookie cake?”

Davey nodded back. “Spot will bring the cookie cake, we’ve just got to text him when someone’s here to let him in.”

Jack continued to grumble about ‘too much trouble’ and ‘don’t need to’ and ‘it’s not a big deal’, but in reality he was absolutely delighted that they cared enough to make such a big fuss. Of course, Crutchie and Davey both knew this, as Jack was not only a dramatic dumbass, he was  _ their _ dramatic dumbass. Even so, to assuage his fake guilt, Crutchie reminded him that the party was also for Specs.

“Sniper’s bringing Cards Against Humanity. Apparently he’s added some more custom cards.”

Jack cringed. “Oh no,”

“Specs likes it, so I can’t say no,” Crutchie snickered, obviously delighted. “I’m sure there will be Mario Kart, and of course we’re ordering fried chicken, and I’m making veggie lasagna for Dave...” At this point, it seemed like Crutchie was going through the list for his own sake.

Jack just nodded along quietly, not so much listening as marveling how in the hell he got lucky enough to have such wonderful people in his life.

The list continued to grow, and eventually Jack softly chuckled, and held his hands out towards Davey, making ‘grabby’ motions to indicate he wanted cuddles. Davey smiled and chuckled fondly, rolling his eyes. He got up and made his way over to the chair, where he sat on Jack’s lap and curled around his torso.

Crutchie, too, chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, I know when I’m not wanted.”

Jack, who had immediately claimed one of Davey’s hands to play with, pouted at Crutchie. “No, shut up. I love you too.”

“I promised Lauren I’d Skype with her, anyway.” Crutchie stood up, grabbing his cane from where it leaned against the arm of the couch. “She just got home.”

Jack pouted more. “You don’t wanna cuddle with me an’ Davey?”

“No, thanks.” Crutchie was off towards the bedroom.

Jack pouted loudly and called after him. “I thought we had something special!” 

Crutchie flipped him off as he closed the bedroom door.

“I’llalwaysloveyou!” Jack wailed quickly just before the door clicked shut.

Davey stifled a laugh in Jack’s shoulder, and Jack quickly turned a bright smile towards him. Although he absolutely adored pretty much everything about Davey Jacobs, his laugh was probably Jack’s favorite. Seeing him happy, in general, but especially when he was laughing.

This was followed by a quiet moment, with Jack holding Davey against his chest and absolutely nothing else. Jack sighed contently, resting his cheek against Davey’s head. Before Davey, he had never realized that such a small thing as holding someone, or seeing them smile, could bring so much peace and happiness. When Jack was with Davey, he felt like the ground beneath his feet was actually solid, and not going to drop out from under him any second. Being with Davey was soothing, and secure, and just  _ good _ .

Until, of course, Davey went and ruined it with an intellectual question like, “Have you given any more thought to what you want to do, now?”

Jack shifted a little under him, getting more comfortable and holding him a little tighter. “You mean  _ right _ now, or...?” He was stalling, and he knew it, but he wasn’t really a fan of talking about the future. He was so used to uncertainty that he didn’t really bother to think about it that much.

“After graduation,” Davey clarified, “and—...even after that.”

Jack hummed in acknowledgment. “I guess try and get a name for myself, with my art. Try and get some stuff up in shows, or auctions or whatever.” He shrugged a bit.

“You told me once that you want to go to Santa Fe,” Davey said. He was much quieter all of a sudden, as if the crushing weight of Jack’s impending ‘real life’ had just fallen on him, too.

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I don’t want to stay in New York forever.”

“Oh,” Davey said very, very quietly.

“Y’know—space, fresh air, gettin’ away from all the gray and the stink in the city.” Jack caught one of Davey’s hands again, playing with it absently. “Maybe a dumb little house somewhere far away from everything else. That is unless you’d mind moving out West?” Jack shut his mouth just a second too late to catch that final sentence, and a little ball of dread sunk into the base of his stomach. They hadn’t even been together four months at this point. ‘Real’ or not, that was still way too soon to suggest moving in together, let alone moving across the whole damn country.

There was a terrifying moment of silence before Davey finally responded, “...I could do West.”

Jack let out a relieved breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding, and a hopeful smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he looked at Davey, a bit surprised. “Really?”

“Sure,” Davey said. There was the palest dusting of pink across his cheekbones. “I can teach anywhere—New York, Santa Fe...”

Jack’s smile spread wider, and he nudged just under the side of his chin with two fingers, guiding Davey to turn his face towards him, but gently enough that it was clearly a request, and he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. Of course, Davey did, and Jack leaned in, closing the small space between them as he kissed him slowly, and deeply.

“What was that for?” Davey asked when they broke apart for air, smiling.

“Have I told you recently how much I love you?”

“I think you have, but you’re always welcome to tell me again.”

“Dude, it’s so fuckin’ much.”

* * *

“Jack.” Davey tried, for the third time, to shake his boyfriend awake. “Jack, wake up. You have to graduate.”

Again there was no response aside from a slight shift, not quite actually rolling over. Jack always had trouble sleeping, frequently woken up in the night by nightmares, or just unable to go to sleep in the first place, but when he  _ did _ sleep, the boy slept like a rock.

“Want me to beat him with my cane, yet?” Crutchie called from the other room.

Davey laughed. “No, but I might if he’s not awake in five minutes.” He leaned down and kissed Jack’s forehead. “Jacky, come on, it’s time to wake up.”

Jack had slept through Davey’s initial, gentle attempts to wake him, through Crutchie getting up and getting dressed, being intentionally very loud about it, and even Davey’s more forceful attempts—shaking him, speaking loudly, having a somewhat shouted conversation with Crutchie in the other room. Jack slept through it all. But this small and simple action finally elicited a reaction as Jack groaned loudly and shifted again.

“Good morning,” Davey said hopefully, gently petting his cheek.

A louder groan, and now he  _ did _ roll over, burying his face in his pillow.

“It’s graduation day,” Davey reminded him, shaking him again. “You have to get up.”

He heard a rather muffled ‘no’ as Jack wiggled slightly, clearly determined to get as comfy as possible while mildly suffocating.

Davey rolled his eyes and brushed his fingers through Jack’s messy hair. “Do you want me to start the shower for you?”

Jack simply groaned yet again, but this time reached up to grab hold of Davey’s hand.

“Jack,” Davey tutted, amused bordering on annoyed with his antics.

Jack rolled over again, and sat up, and Davey was relieved, until he leaned forwards to wrap his arms around his waist, and pulled Davey down onto the bed with him. Davey felt like he’d just been knocked into a pool of ice-cold water, and every thought that was in his head crumpled like a sheet of paper in his fist. After the initial disorientation of the movement wore off, he kicked Jack off, perhaps harder than was strictly necessary. “ _ Jack _ .”

Jack recoiled instantly, and fell off the bed with a heavy  _ thud _ . Sitting up quickly, he started babbling apologies, though his voice was still heavy with sleep. “ _ Shit _ , Davey, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Davey took a deep breath. Well, that was one way to get him up. Jack was still on the floor, definitely awake now, and frantically apologizing.

Crutchie appeared in the doorway, face creased with concern. “Are you guys okay?”

Jack’s gaze darted briefly to Crutchie, and he explained quickly. “I’m dumb, an’ I grabbed him and pulled him down, I shouldn’t ‘a— I wasn’t thinking, an’—”

Crutchie cut Jack off. “David, are you okay?” he asked gently.

It took a moment for Davey’s brain to catch up to the conversation going on around him. He took another deep breath. “Yeah. I’m okay.” His heart rate was still through the roof, and he still felt cold, but he was okay. Besides, Jack was graduating; that’s what mattered.

“I’m so sorry, Davey,” Jack said again, looking very truly sorry in his tangle of sheets on the floor.

Davey managed a small smile. “I forgive you, Jack. I’ll always forgive you.” He sat up, a little shaky, but okay. “Now, let’s get you ready to graduate, okay?”

* * *

“ _ Jack Kelly, studio art _ .” Those words were still ringing in Jack’s head as he shuffled through the sea of identically dressed students—no, fuck,  _ graduates _ —to the reception area. He didn’t even remember walking. One moment, he was standing on the stairs on one side of the stage, and the next, he was on the other with a paper in his hand. It was all surreal, and a little bit anticlimactic. He looked at the paper he was holding again—it wasn’t his diploma, obviously, just a dumb little placeholder—and was briefly bombarded with a familiar flurry of thoughts—all that work, all that time, all that  _ money _ , just for a little piece of paper. Was it even worth it? Getting an art degree wouldn’t mean shit if he didn’t get any interest or commissions or anything.

A passing student— _ graduate _ —mildly shoulder checked Jack in the jostling crowd, and snapped him out of his contemplation. He shook his head briefly to dislodge the thoughts, and continued his search through the crowd for Crutchie and Davey. There were so many people—mostly parents and grandparents and siblings, the occasional boyfriend or girlfriend, husband or wife. Eventually, Jack gave up the search and just went to stand outside the building, figuring they would have to come out sooner or later. There were plenty of people outside, as well, and he wondered for a moment if he should just call one of them. Looking at the flood of people around him, he wondered if they were all as scared as he was.

He had graduated. School was over. Forever.

He needed to find better work, he needed to find time to work on circulating his art, he needed to find time to  _ make _ his art. Jack dragged a hand through his hair restlessly, feeling very much like there was a torrential downpouring of the real, adult world, and his college shaped umbrella had just snapped, leaving him to be pelted mercilessly by reality.

Just as he was considering running to the nearest bathroom to throw up, he heard Crutchie calling his name. Jack quickly looked around, trying to spot him in the crowd. The problem with someone yelling at you in a really crowded space is that everyone is yelling, so it’s hard to source the sound in the cacophony.

“Jack!” Crutchie called again, and Jack saw him, dropping his cane and running through the crowd at the closest thing to full tilt as he could get, pushing through people and stumbling up steps.

Jack sputtered and started towards him, breaking into a run as well. “What are you doing!?”

They crashed into each other on the steps. Crutchie threw his arms around Jack’s middle and squeezed. As Jack had overcompensated for his momentum, Crutchie managed to knock him down pretty easily on impact.

Jack was laughing, hugging him back just as tightly. “Why are we running?”

Crutchie didn’t answer, just laughed as people made space for the pile of boy on the steps. Still laughing as well, Jack buried his face in Crutchie’s shoulder—Crutchie,  _ his _ Crutchie, who had been there through everything, who had held Jack up when he couldn’t stand on his own, who had kept Jack safe just as much as Jack had kept him safe, who had lived with him, who had starved with him, who had hurt with him, who he trusted above anyone else. His rock, his support, his comfort.

Somewhere along the way, Jack’s laughter had turned to tears as he hung on tight to Crutchie, and Crutchie was was crying too. They must have looked like the biggest mess.

“Are you both okay?” Davey asked, appearing out of nowhere and kneeling down beside them.

Jack unwrapped one arm from Crutchie to reach for Davey’s hand and attempted to answer, but it didn’t really happen. Davey smiled, squeezing his hand, and for a minute that’s all there was—Jack, sitting on some concrete stairs, holding onto the two most important things in the world and crying.

“I’m so proud of you,” Crutchie sobbed. “I love you so much.”

This just made Jack cry harder. He couldn’t really figure out if he was happy or scared or relieved or just so goddamn tired, but it didn’t make much of a difference either way. He would be okay. He had everything he needed.

It didn’t take too long for him to quiet down. He let go of Crutchie to lean back a bit and wipe the back of his hand across his eyes. “Hoo, fuck.” His voice was that sort of fragile and breathless that always comes after a good cry.

“I’m so proud of you, Jack,” Davey said, leaning in to give him a kiss.

Jack kissed him back, laughing lightly when they broke apart and wiping at his eyes again. “Holy shit.”

“You did it!” Crutchie basically screamed at him.

Jack laughed. “I know! It’s crazy.”

Davey put his free hand on Crutchie’s shoulder. “We should probably get off the stairs,” he suggested.

It was then that it occurred to Jack that they were in the middle of a very large crowd, and he looked to Davey quickly and squeezed his hand a bit tighter. “Yeah, let’s get somewhere less crowded.”

Jack more or less pushed Crutchie up to his feet—Davey, ever the responsible one, had picked his cane up on the way over—and once Crutchie stabilized, he helped pull Jack to his feet as well.

“Right,” Jack took Davey’s hand and tucked it through his arm, settling just above the crook of his elbow, and Crutchie—who was familiar with crowd navigation operation ‘Think Goose’—fell into line behind Davey, catching ahold of his sleeve with his free hand, so all three were linked together, with Jack as the spearhead.

With Jack’s willingness to shoulder people out of the way, and Davey and Crutchie holding on and trailing close behind, it didn’t take them long to get around the corner of the building, where the crowd thinned out. As soon as they broke formation, Crutchie glommed onto him again, and Davey took a couple steps back and pulled out his phone.

“Come on; we have to take pictures!” Davey laughed.

Jack groaned loudly, rolling his eyes and as much of his upper body as he could without dislodging Crutchie, but it was just for show.

Crutchie let go with one arm, leaving the other wrapped around Jack’s back. He laughed, wiping his eyes. “Give me a minute.”

Jack laughed lightly, smiling so brightly it felt like his mouth might crack right off his face. “Would you stop crying? You’re gonna set me goin’ again.”

“Okay, okay, I’m good.” Crutchie took a deep breath.

Jack snickered, and turned to hold his arm out to Davey, inviting him to come back.

Davey frowned. “Wh— No, I’m taking a picture of you two.”

“No, I want you in it, too!”

“Yeah, Dave,” Crutchie agreed. “You’re family.”

Davey stammered and blushed. “I— But you—”

“Shut up, you’re cute.” Jack leaned towards him, tilting Crutchie with him and reaching further towards Davey, who reluctantly took his hand and let himself be pulled closer.

Jack pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re part’a my life now, an’ I want you in it, not hanging on the sidelines.”

“Fine,” Davey relented, still blushing like crazy. “ _ One _ with me in it.”

“ _ Everything _ with you in it,” Jack replied, smiling and kissing his cheek again.

Davey groaned, hiding his face in Jack’s shoulder for a moment before holding out his phone to take a picture of the three of them. Just as Davey snapped the picture, Jack tugged him the tiniest bit closer against his side, and pressed yet another kiss to his cheek.

“Jaaack,” Davey whined.

Jack laughed, “Fine, fine, I’ll be good,” and smiled properly as Davey snapped another picture.

“Now, can I take one with just the two of you?”

“Only if I can get one with just you and Jack,” Crutchie replied.

Davey huffed. “ _ Fine _ . Deal. But only because I love you both.”

The next few minutes were filled with Davey complaining that Crutchie looked like the proud mama of a dying soldier boy instead of someone happy about his brother‘s graduation, so Jack began to pinch and poke, which resulted in a good couple of pictures of Crutchie thwacking at Jack with his cane. When it was Davey’s turn for pictures, Jack hung onto him like he was the result and reward of these past years of work, rather than a diploma.

Crutchie wrinkled his nose, grinning. “You two are disgustingly cute.”

“All him, man, I’m just standing here,” Jack retorted, smiling widely.

Davey rolled his eyes.

“What, I’m not allowed to be proud of my accomplishments?” Jack asked him incredulously.

“I’m not an accomplishment.” Davey shoved him playfully.

“No, of course you’re not. Getting you to stay with me, though? Most important work I’ve ever done.”

Crutchie huffed. “What am I, chopped liver? Just smile for the damn camera.”

“You’re contractually obligated chopped liver,” Jack teased.

“That’s not smiling!”

“Can we be done with pictures now? You’ve got like, five thousand,” Jack grumbled.

“No!” Davey announced, practically launching himself away from Jack. “We don’t have any of just you!”

Jack groaned loudly and dramatically slumped against the brick wall they’d been using as a backdrop, slowly sinking to the ground.

Davey shot him a fed-up look, while Crutchie shouted, “ _ Yass! _ Work it!” and started taking more pictures.

This went on for a little while until Crutchie got a text declaring everything was ‘all set’ for the graduation party, so they started for the apartment.

* * *

“You guys really didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” Jack said for what must have been the millionth time as he hit the ‘up’ button on the wall next to the building’s relatively untrustworthy elevator.

“Sure, but we  _ want _ to,” Crutchie insisted.

“You’re too good for me,” Jack replied, smiling.

Crutchie waved him off as they stepped onto the elevator.

“Protest all you want but you are, the both of you.” Jack turned his gaze to Davey and reached out to take his hand. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you two.”

Davey smiled. “I’ve only been around for three months. I believe you couldn’t have done this without Crutchie.”

Jack shook his head firmly. “Both of you.” He chuckled wanly. “Honestly I never thought I’d make it this far.”

“Of course you made it this far.” Davey bumped against his shoulder with his own. “You’re brilliant.”

Jack shot a quick look at Crutchie, trying not to cringe as he answered quietly. “No, I meant, like...at all.”

He immediately regretted saying it at all, as Davey’s smile faltered before fading completely.

“My assessment still stands,” Davey said numbly.

Jack winced. “I’m sorry, that was real dark, forget it.”

“The point is,” Crutchie came to the rescue as always, “you  _ did _ make it this far, and that’s something worth celebrating.”

Jack nodded, squeezing Davey’s hand a little tighter.

The elevator stopped on their floor, and the doors opened with a concerningly loud, metallic chunk.

As usual, apartment 32B was easily distinguishable by volume. It appeared the party had started without them.

“Specs already got here,” Crutchie explained. “His party, too.”

“Thank god, I’d hate to be the center of attention.” Jack teased, tossing a wink towards Davey. He felt bad about what he had said. He hadn’t meant it to be upsetting, just to explain how deeply he needed the both of them, how important they were.

Davey didn’t seem to be dwelling on it, as he smiled and rolled his eyes at Jack’s sarcastic remark. Jack let out a quiet breath of relief. Today was going to be a good day. No matter what had come before, or what might come later, today things were good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m jealous of Jack. College is a trap; don’t do it.


	59. These Boys Are So Good and Soft and We Love Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Specs' graduation party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We just noticed that we broke 200,000 words last chapter and we are ANGRY.

The cheers that erupted in Jack and Crutchie’s apartment as Davey stepped inside beside the two of them were quite deafening, and immediately Jack was swept away in a sea of hugs and congratulations. Davey chuckled fondly. Jack needed this. Jack  _ deserved _ this. Naturally, he was loudly protesting, saying Specs deserved all the attention because he got ‘a real degree’, but the other graduate laughed him off, saying he’d already had his share of fuss and mini confetti cannons to the face.

Spot appeared at Davey’s side with a very bouncy Race clinging to him. “Hey, how was the ceremony?”

“Long,” Davey and Crutchie answered in unison, then laughed.

“I can’t believe he actually did it,” Race interjected.

Spot nudged him, shooting him a quelling look, but there was a very soft quality about it.

Davey just smiled. “Of course, he did it.”

“I just mean ‘cause he’s an idiot,” Race explained, and Spot cuffed the back of his head. “Ow, hey!” Race whined, putting his hands over his head protectively. “He is!”

“Yeah, but he’s ours,” Crutchie said fondly.

“Best kind of idiot to have.” Race nodded in agreement.

It took a few minutes for said idiot to escape the crowd of adoring fans and catch ahold of Davey’s hand. “Remind me to never accomplish anything ever again.”

“Aw, but I’m so proud of you,” Davey kissed his cheek.

Jack groaned good naturedly, letting go of Davey’s hand and stepping around to hug him from behind and rest his chin on his shoulder. “Don’t be gross. It’s just a piece of paper,” he said jokingly.

Davey chuckled and reached up to brush his fingers through Jack’s hair.

Jack hummed happily, holding him a little tighter. “I love you.”

“Ey, Jack, leave room for Jesus!” Specs bellowed from across the room, shooting off a confetti cannon. It—of course—didn’t come even close to hitting his target.

“It’s my party, too!” Jack retorted.

Davey ruffled Jack’s hair. “Hey, I‘ve got to go congratulate Specs.”

Jack whined and grumbled, but let go.

“I’ll be right back, doofus.” Davey crossed the room to Specs and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Congratulations, man.”

“Hey thanks, Dave,” the other boy replied happily. “Now I can finally get going on my masters and dig myself into even more debt.”

“God, imagine the party you’ll get then.”

Specs laughed. “What could possibly outdo confetti cannons?”

Davey raised his palms in an exaggerated shrug. “ _ More _ confetti cannons?”

“Do we even dare? Race might not be able to handle it.” Specs nodded his head towards Race, who had left Spot’s side to go chase down Henry, who had one of the few un-popped confetti cannons.

Davey shook his head fondly. “Is he already on a sugar rush?”

“We started with two boxes of donuts.” Specs gestured towards the kitchen, where there was only one, already half empty box of donuts.

“Oh, God,” Davey muttered on an exhale.

Specs chuckled fondly. “I don’t understand how that kid is still alive.”

Davey watched as Spot chased and eventually caught Race around the waist, both smiling and laughing. They looked at each other, so clearly in that gross honeymoon phase of their new relationship, and Davey was absolutely delighted.

Of course, this cute moment didn’t last long as Race blasted a confetti cannon right into Spot’s face—where did he even get it from?—in response to which Spot picked him up, carried him into the kitchen, and gently deposited him into the trash can.

Specs laughed. “They’re perfect for each other, aren’t they?”

Davey nodded.

Just then, he heard a quiet, “Gotcha,” from behind him and a tiny bit to the left, and a second later, Jack had slung his arms around Davey’s waist and dropped a kiss on his shoulder.

Davey grinned. “Hi, Jacky.”

Jack smiled, tilting his head to look at Davey. “Hey, babe.”

“Jack,” Specs grinned, clapping him on the shoulder, “we did it, man.”

Jack laughed, straightening up and letting go of Davey with one arm to catch Specs’ hand in a sort of clasped, not-quite handshake. “Hell yeah, now you can finally stop suffering and get out in the field!”

Specs laughed, “Still gotta get through grad school and clinicals.”

“Now you can finally start suffering and get out in the field!”

“Hey, Jack! Specs!” Sniper, standing on the kitchen island, screamed over the noise.

From somewhere in the crowd, Crutchie’s, “Ohmygod get down!” could barely be heard.

“We got Cards Against Humanity,” Sniper continued, unconcerned. “You in?”

There was no verbal answer discernable from the general chaos of the room, but a good majority of the crowd headed towards the table. Many formed a sort of perimeter to watch, which Davey tried to join, only to be dragged the rest of the way in to the table by Jack. Spot and Race formed a team, with Race sitting on Spot’s lap. Other players included Crutchie, Finch, Smalls, Mike, Ike, Buttons, and (of course) Specs.

“Okay,” Sniper announced, having relegated himself to the role of organizer instead of player, “since Jack is one of our graduates, he gets to be our first Card Czar.” He handed Jack a black card.

“This is the prime of my life.” Jack recited. “I’m young, hot, and full of ‘blank’.”

There were a few scattered snickers around the table. Davey checked his cards, and after briefly considering ‘Sexual tension’, submitted ‘A sobering quantity of chili cheese fries’.

After brief deliberation and a few whispered debates, six other cards were placed down, and Jack swept the pile towards himself. “Okay; this is the prime of my life, I’m young, hot, and full of crippling debt.”

Across the table, Specs groaned in agreement.

Jack continued. “This is the prime of my life. I’m young, hot, and full of moderate-to-severe joint pain. I’m young, hot, and full of poor life choices.”

Crutchie nodded, “Accurate,” eliciting snickers from the audience.

“I’m young, hot, and full of insufficient serotonin.” There were some laughs and some cringes.

“Oh here we go, first custom card.” Jack grinned. “This is the prime of my life. I’m young, hot, and full of...you know. And then there’s a winky face.” He turned the card around so everyone could see—‘...you know ;)’

“Oh, we  _ know _ , alright,” Albert snickered.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Shaddup.” He pulled the next card. “This is the prime of my life. I’m young, hot, and full of whatever a McRib is made of. I’m young, hot, and full of a sobering quantity of chili cheese fries.”

“Well shit, now I’m hungry,” Albert interrupted, and Jack waved dismissively to silence him.

“This is the prime of my life, I’m young, hot, and full of daddy issues.” A hollow, haunted sort of look filled in behind his eyes, and Crutchie cringed just a bit.

Davey placed a hand on his knee under the table.

Jack cleared his throat before reading the last card. “Okay, this is the prime of my life. I’m young, hot, and full of bomb-grade uranium.” He looked over the cards again for a moment, considering his options, before announcing ‘crippling debt’ as the winner. “Cause hoo boy, ain’t that relevant?”

Crutchie slammed a hand on the table. “Thank you.”

Jack laughed. “Just you wait; you’re the one going to medical school.”

“Who do you think I played it?” Crutchie accepted the black card as his prize.

“Alright, Dave,” Sniper announced, “you’re up.” He passed Davey a card.

“This is the way the world ends,” Davey read. “This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with ‘blank’.”

There was another round of scattered chuckles as they all went through their hands and one eager “Ooh!” from Ike as he slammed a card on the table.

Davey collected them as they came in, shuffling them in his hands. When Smalls handed him the last one, he shuffled one more time and began, “This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with kale. Not with a bang, but with...” He sighed. “A big, black dick.”

Race shook his head tragically. “What a way to go.”

“Not with a bang, but with an AR-15 assault rifle. Geez. Not with a bang, but with Auschwi—oh come on!”

Laughter broke out around the table.

“That’s just rude,” Davey chuckled. “This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with...a bigger,  _ blacker _ dick...”

More laughter, and a few short accusations tossed between Mike and Finch as Davey pulled the next card.

“Not with a bang, but with owls, the perfect predator. Not with a bang, but with angels interfering in an otherwise fair baseball game. Not with a bang, but with...” His eyes widened slightly. “Sucking the caviar straight out of a fish’s pussy.”

“Oh god, why?!” Smalls wailed, and the room briefly dissolved into various exclamations of disgust and Race’s very loud attempt to figure out how that might lead to the end of the world.

In the midst of all the chaos, Davey pulled the last card, and a terrible grin spread across his face.

Jack looked at Davey. “Oh no...”

Crutchie followed Jack’s gaze, and echoed. “Oh no...”

“This one wins,” Davey told them, and there was a rare moment of quiet in 32B as everyone waited with bated breath for the reveal. “This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with Jack Kelly sodomizing himself with a paintbrush while watching Bob Ross videos.”

“Nooo!” Jack wailed, falling slowly out of his chair as the rest of the room burst into laughter.

Davey snickered and shrugged, handing the black card off to Finch, who claimed the victory. “Sorry, babe.”

“I thought you loved me,” Jack replied, flopped flat on the floor.

“I love you and everything you stand for.”

“Well he’s not standing for anything right now,” Finch pointed out.

“Okay, okay.” Sniper carefully selected a black card and handed it to Race. “This one is just for you.”

Race snickered as he took the card. “A’right. What is my secret turn on?”

He turned the card around to show that it did, in fact, read, ‘What is Race’s secret turn on?’

Davey perused his cards, eventually settling on ‘The amount of baby carrots I can fit up my ass’.

Everyone else put in their cards, and Race pulled one from the pile. “My secret turn-on: Robots with human faces. My secret turn-on: The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles—Guys, come on; it’s supposed to be funny, not accurate.”

A few people laughed, a few people cringed, and Race continued. “My secret turn-on: The Kool-Aid Man. Hot cheese. A mime having a stroke. A windmill full of corpses. All men.” He scoffed. “That one isn’t a secret.”

“Excuse me,” Spot grumbled playfully, holding him a little tighter.

“You know what you signed up for!”

“Lick him, so he’s yours,” Davey suggested to Spot.

Jack burst into laughter, still on the floor by Davey’s chair—he had handed his card to Davey, since he couldn’t reach the table—and Race squawked a wordless protest as the rest of the room began to chime in with other various and mostly ridiculous ways to ‘claim’ one’s significant other.

Rolling his eyes, Race pulled the next card and  _ shouted _ over the noise, “ _ My secret turn-on: The amount of baby carrots I can fit up my ass! _ ”

“Oh my god, the poor neighbors,” Crutchie groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

“And, finally,” Race turned over the last card, “my secret turn-on...David...”

“Hm?” Davey perked up a little. “What?”

“No, it just says ‘David’.”

There was silence for half a moment before Albert sputtered into a laugh, and the rest followed suit, save for Jack, who sat up from the floor to pout heavily at Race. “Fuck off, get your own!”

“I’m picking it, just to make Jack mad.”

The group laughed louder as Jack squawked in indignant protest.

“Nooo, Race!” Davey managed through his own laughter. “You weren’t supposed to tell them!”

“Secrets are no fun if no one knows!” Race retorted, grinning like the absolute dickhead that he was.

Spot, who had already facepalmed so hard, groaned into his hands.

Jack had stood up by this point to throw his arms protectively around Davey. “You’ll have to fight me for him!”

Race just laughed. “Come on, Jack; sharing is caring.”

“Well, then I don’t care!”

“Come on,” Sniper chuckled. “Be nice to Jack at his own graduation party.”

Jack grumbled poutily, still standing behind Davey’s chair with his arms slung around him, and Race snickered in malicious amusement.

“It’s Specs’ party, too,” he pointed out.

“Sharing is caring,” Jack quipped.

“Anyway,” Spot cut in, “who played the ‘David’ card?”

Crutchie grinned. “That would be me.”

“Traitor!” Jack accused, and Crutchie blew him a kiss.

The game continued, with Crutchie basically crushing everyone. As the game broke down, Buttons leaned towards Jack from across the table. “So Jack, I’ve talked to Specs a lot about what comes next, but I haven’t really asked you...?”

“Oh, uh, I mean I guess I gotta find more work next,” Jack replied with a somewhat awkward shrug.

Buttons nodded. “Will you actually be doing art? Or something else?”

Jack cleared his throat, straightening up a bit to rest his crossed arms on the back of Davey’s chair, rather than around his shoulders. “I’d  _ like _ to be doing art. I dunno how exactly that’ll pan out, though...”

Everyone who was listening either gave him a look, scoffed, or rolled their eyes.

“It’ll probably take awhile to get off the ground, art isn’t really a stable field...” 

Although well hidden, Davey didn’t miss the tinge of doubt in his voice. He turned sideways in his chair so he could look at him.

“Please. As if you’re not  _ irritatingly _ talented,” Kid Blink said.

Jack rolled his eyes at Blink and scoffed. “Talent doesn’t really have all that much to do with it. Van Gogh’s stuff didn’t get big till after he died.” He sounded his usual, jovial self, but Davey could hear a hollow ring to it.

“Damn, guess you’re gonna have to die,” Finch joked, and it was  _ clearly _ a joke, but Davey didn’t like it at all. He shot Finch a quelling look.

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, that’d probably be an easier route.”

Davey turned that same look on Jack, and Jack cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Still though, I knew it would be hard work, goin’ in.” He shrugged again. “Just gotta try and see if anything comes out of it, ‘n if it doesn’t, I can uh...always find something else, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Buttons told him, waving dismissively. “You’re an artist.”

“Yeah, thanks Buttons.” Jack offered him a smile that, to Davey’s eyes, was clearly strained. “Let’s just hope it stays that way...” he finished under his breath.

Davey frowned for a moment, then carefully neutralized his expression. “Oh hey, Jack,” he said, playing like he’d just remembered something, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

Jack’s gaze shot to him quickly and he nodded. “Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

Davey nodded towards the door as he stood up and headed that way. Jack nodded again and followed. They stepped outside into the hallway, and Jack closed the door behind them.

“Is everything okay?” Jack asked, frowning.

“You tell me,” Davey said. “You look a little...” He made a shaking gesture with his hands.

Jack frowned slightly. “What? No I’m fine.” His voice had that hard around the edges quality it got when he had his walls up.

“Hey,” Davey took his hands. “Talk to me.”

Jack started to protest again, but cut off with a sigh, dropping his head a bit and looking down at their joined hands. “I dunno. I guess I’m not as ready for all this as I thought I was...”

“Ready for what?”

He gestured vaguely at nothing. “All of it.”

Davey shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Life— _ real _ life.” Jack sighed again, a bit shakier, and pulled one of his hands from Davey’s to push restlessly through his hair. “I have to actually figure out my career, get it going. Art is such an impractical field, I should’ve just gone to trade school or something.” He was starting to talk faster, taking less time between each word as he grew more agitated. “And Crutchie still has to finish school, and then medical school, and we gotta figure that out, and I’ll have to pay off my loans, which I can’t do if I can’t find steady work, and steady work really isn’t a thing for painters and shit. God, why did I ever think this was a good idea? I could’ve gotten my certification to be an electrician or something. That’s practical. Everyone always needs shit done with lights and wiring and stuff. Or construction—I’m good at fixing things, and people  _ always _ need things fixed or made or whatever— _ that’s _ a reliable line of work.” Jack let go of Davey’s other hand partway through and starting to pace shortly across the hallway as he continued to babble, fidgeting and dragging his fingers through his hair nervously as he spiraled further and further down the well of why art was impractical and he was an idiot and how easily everything could go wrong.

Finally, Davey stepped in. “Jack, listen to me.”

Jack’s sentence stumbled to a halt, and so did he, looking up from the floor to meet Davey’s eyes.

Davey placed his hands on Jack’s shoulders. “Jack, you’ll figure it out. You always do, and you don’t have to do it alone. All those people in there,” he pointed back towards the apartment, “are here for you.  _ I’m _ here for you.”

Jack whined, deflating a bit. “But you’re  _ leaving _ .”

“Wh—” Davey shook his head. “Jack, I’m going home upstate for the Summer. I’m not  _ leaving _ .”

“Still though...” Jack tried two or three times to continue that sentence, but ended up just frowning at the floor.

“Do you...need a hug?” Davey asked.

Jack huffed quietly and nodded, and Davey wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him in close. Jack held him tightly around the waist, burying his face in the crook of Davey’s neck. Davey placed a hand on the back of his head and rocked him slightly side to side. Maybe what he needed was a little security. Davey could understand that.

“I’m sorry,” Jack mumbled, mostly muffled against Davey’s shoulder.

“For what? Being scared?” Davey scoffed. “Jack, everyone’s scared.”

“Yeah, but I’m not supposed to be.”

“Who told you that?”

“No, it’s not— If everyone else is—” Jack sighed, frowning more. “They’re not strong enough. I have to be.”

“First of all...no.” Davey let Jack go so he could look at him. “ _ You _ don’t have to be the rock all the time. Second, not strong enough?”

Jack gestured helplessly. “Like you said, everyone’s scared. Back in the group home, and even now, with Crutchie—he’s amazing and smart and capable, but I can’t just— I have to—” Jack took a shaky breath, clearly fighting back tears. “If I can’t get my shit together, how am I supposed to help anyone?”

Davey pulled him back into his arms. “You help just by being here. You help—” He faltered. “Jack, I don’t think I’d be here, without you. And Crutchie—”

“No, don’t—” Jack cut him off, shaking his head and wrapping his arms tightly around him. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, Jack.”

“Please, don’t. I don’t want to think—” He pressed his lips together tightly before burying his face in Davey’s shoulder again, holding him tight enough that it almost hurt.

Davey relented. “Okay. Hey. I’m here. I’m right here...”

Jack took a shaky breath, but didn’t loosen his grip. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Davey assured him, beginning to rock him again.

“Why are you so amazing?” Jack mumbled.

“I’m not.  _ We _ are.”

“Things aren’t gonna change...right? With you going home?”

“Of course not. I love you. A little distance isn’t going to change that.”

Jack sighed quietly. “I’m gonna miss you...”

“I’m gonna miss you, too. Let’s not worry about that tonight, okay?” Davey backed off again and took Jack’s face in his hands. “Tonight is about you and Specs and how incredible the two of you are.”

Jack offered a wan smile. “Okay.”

Davey kissed his forehead. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”


	60. The Beginning of a Boring Ass Summer in the Burbs and a Highly Stressful Summer in Manhattan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey heads back upstate, and Jack and Crutchie get some inconvenient news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the flu so bad that when I went in for a make-up exam, the professor took one look at me and told me to go home. Have a nice transition chapter in honor of my misery.

“I’m just going upstate,” Davey said. “It’s only a few hours away. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I think I’ll notice three months,” Jack griped, fidgeting unhappily with Davey’s hand clasped in both of his. They were sitting on a bench at the train station, waiting for the train to come and whisk Davey away for the Summer, and Jack wasn’t looking forward to it.

“I’ve already promised you a million times, I’ll come visit.” Davey leaned into Jack, and despite his words trying to downplay the situation, Jack could feel the tension in his body.

Jack turned a bit more towards Davey and withdrew his hands to wrap his arms around him instead. “I know...”

He didn’t want Davey to go. The thought of Davey being so far away, not being able see him or get to him quickly, was driving him crazy, and Davey wasn’t even gone yet. Jack took a slow breath, trying to reason with himself. They’d be fine. They could text, or call, or video chat, and Davey would be with his family; he’d be perfectly safe. Still, Jack couldn’t shake that oh so painfully familiar uneasy feeling of something about to go wrong.

Davey tucked his face into Jack’s shoulder and gently rubbed his back, and Jack sighed. “I’m being dumb, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Davey told him, voice muffled against Jack’s shirt.

“I’m trying not to be all overprotective or whatever...”

“I’m scared too, Jack.”

Jack settled his arms a little more securely around Davey and pressed a kiss just above his temple, talking quietly without pulling away. “If you need anything—even if it’s nothing—I don’t care how far away you are, or what time it is, or anything. If you need me, I’ll get to you.”

Davey sniffled. “I love you.”

Jack pressed another kiss into his hair. “I love you more than anything in the world.”

The sound of his train approaching drew a sigh out of Davey, and he leaned back, quickly wiping at his cheeks as if hoping Jack wouldn’t notice, which of course he did. Jack gently took Davey’s face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over the tear tracks and leaning in to kiss him.

“You’d better be here when I come back for you,” Davey said once they broke apart.

“Well I was planning to go back to the apartment.” Jack pointed back over his shoulder with his thumb.

Davey rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. Don’t go running off with some cute artist or something.”

Jack chuckled. “Come on, babe, I may be the only cute artist in town, but I’m not  _ that _ full of myself.”

Davey wasn’t taking the bait. He just looked miserable.

“Hey.” Jack’s tone softened, and he smiled a more genuine, gentle smile, reaching out with one hand to lightly brush the backs of his fingers across Davey’s cheek. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“I know.” Davey looked away as the train pulled into the station.

Jack’s stomach twinged unpleasantly, and he dropped his hand. “It’s only a few weeks...”

Davey nodded, standing up. “Only a few weeks.”

Jack stood as well, twisting the hem of his hoodie between his hands. He felt restless, anxious, as if he were the one about to go somewhere. Davey took his hand, lacing their fingers together, as they watched the train come in.

Jack took a shaky breath. He felt a little silly, getting this worked up about such a small thing as his boyfriend of three months going home for a few weeks, but Davey was right; they’d gotten dangerously codependent, and Jack didn’t know what he was going to do with himself, without Davey to do it with.

The train shuddered to a halt, and the arriving passengers began to flood the station, Davey stepped a little bit closer to Jack.

Jack held his hand tighter, shifting closer as well. “Text me on the train?”

“Yeah.” Davey nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Jack wrapped his arms tight around Davey, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “I love you,” he said for what must have been the hundredth time that hour, muffled against Davey’s shirt.

Davey gripped the back of Jack’s shirt. “I love you, too.”

Jack straightened up and let go, shifting from a hug to holding both of Davey’s hands. “Tell your family I said—well, no. Tell your family Kelly said ‘hi’.” He smirked.

Davey laughed. “I will.”

“I’ll get one of those apps with a gender-swap filter, so you can show them how pretty I am.”

“Won’t do you justice.” Davey smiled.

Jack scoffed. “No camera ever does.

Davey let go of one of Jack’s hands to reach for his backpack, pulling it onto his shoulders before reaching for his suitcase. “Call me if you need me,” he said, “or any time you just want to talk.”

Jack nodded. “Same for you, okay?”

“Okay.” Davey leaned in and kissed him hard, but pulled away just as quickly. “I love you.”

Rather than catching him and pulling him back, Jack twisted his hands into the hem of his hoodie. “I love you too.”

Davey offered a very forced smile and turned away, headed towards the train. Jack set his mouth in a hard line, continuing to wrench at the bottom of his hoodie as he very purposefully kept his feet cemented to the ground, watching Davey walk away. Davey gave his suitcase to a man by the door and turned to look back at Jack one more time before boarding. Jack quickly hoisted a smile onto his face and freed one hand to blow him a kiss and an overdone wink. Davey laughed and waved one more time before disappearing into the train car. Jack kept smiling, forcing himself into a more relaxed stance as he watched until the train was far enough that there was no way Davey could see him anymore, and then the smile slid off his face.

Davey was gone.

Only for the summer, and he’d come visit. Everything was totally fine. It’s healthy to have distance sometimes. Besides, like Davey said, Jack could call any time he needed him.

* * *

For Davey, stepping onto the train out of New York City was like taking off the training wheels. What little sense of security he had managed to build around himself was suddenly stripped away, like the wooden planks on a shaky rope bridge had just dropped out beneath his feet. He drew in on himself as best he could, folding his arms over his stomach as he looked around for an aisle seat. The thought of being trapped between a person and a wall made him feel sick to his stomach.

He seated himself near the back of the car, holding his backpack in his lap like a barricade. About a minute after he sat down, his phone rang, and he saw Jack’s name flash across the screen. Had he forgotten something? “Hello?” he answered.

“I need you.”

Davey laughed weakly. “I need you, too.”

Davey never built a sense of security, he realized; Jack did, and without Jack…

“I miss you,” Jack said softly, and then continued in a rush. “I know it’s been literally two minutes, I’m a needy idiot, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything...” Davey smiled. He loved his idiot.

“Yeah, but you were thinking it.”

“I was not!”

Jack laughed. “Don’t lie—you always think I’m an idiot.”

“...Okay, yes, I was thinking you’re an idiot, but—”

“But I’m  _ your _ idiot, I know,” Jack interrupted fondly.

“You know me so well,” Davey agreed. “Better than anyone.”

Jack really did know Davey better than anyone. Somehow, in three months, he had gotten Davey to open up more than even Sarah ever had. Davey didn’t know how he did it.

“What are you going to do, today?” Davey asked, just wanting to hear Jack talk.

Jack exhaled in that blustery way one does when hit with an unexpected question. “I dunno. I should probably try and paint.”

Davey frowned. “It sounds like a chore, when you say it like that.”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, I do. It’s just sorta different, looking at it from, like, a career building perspective, y’know?”

Davey hummed in understanding. “Paint something you like, okay?”

“Well, my favorite model isn’t available at the moment—got called away on family business,” Jack said tragically, “so now I’m gonna have to paint Crutchie or another dumb bird.”

“Wait,” Davey laughed, “do you mean me? You’ve never painted me...”

He could practically hear the smirk on Jack’s face. “Maybe not yet.”

Davey groaned, blushing.

“Whaaat, you don’t want me to?”

“I think you should paint whatever makes you happy,” Davey replied diplomatically.

“Right, so you.”

Damn it. “Stop being wonderful,” he whined. “I miss you.”

“Absolutely not,” Jack retorted, and again, Davey could hear the smile in his voice. “Gotta make sure you come back to me, right?”

“You don’t have to try that hard,” Davey assured him.

“Well, I’m gonna anyway. You’re worth the extra work.”

It was still strange to Davey, feeling like he was worth something—anything at all, much more ‘extra work’. He felt like he must have tricked Jack somehow, thrown up some smoke and mirrors and made the poor man see something that wasn’t there. As time went on, though, as Jack had seen him at his very worst time and time again, he was starting to believe it.

* * *

Jack walked home from the train station. It was a pretty long walk, but he had time and didn’t want to pay for the bus or a cab. He got home around one o’clock. The day wasn’t even half over and he was already exhausted—more emotionally than physically, but even so. He knew it was silly, to get so attached so fast, but without Davey there, Jack felt like something was missing—like when you carry a bag or wear a ring every day, and it feels weird if you don’t.

Once he got inside, Jack tossed his keys in the bowl on the half wall—well, he aimed for it, but he overshot, and the keys sailed right over into the kitchen. He expected a laugh or a quip from Crutchie, who was sitting at the table looking through mail, but he didn’t get one. Crutchie was staring at a letter, eyebrows creased with concern.

Jack looked over towards him, frowning. “You okay?”

Crutchie looked over at him. “Landlord’s jacking up the price of rent...”

_ Perfect _ .

Jack winced. “Fun.” He walked over to stand slightly behind Crutchie, bracing one arm on the back of his chair and another on the table as he leaned closer to read over Crutchie’s shoulder. He sighed, frowning at the numbers on the paper. “Guess I better get going on that whole career thing, huh?”

“Jack, you’re already working two jobs...” Crutchie said.

Jack pushed lightly off the chair, straightening up, and shrugged as he headed towards the kitchen to pick up his keys. “Three’s the magic number.”

Crutchie let out a low breath. “I can pick up more hours at the library...”

Jack sighed tightly, fighting down his knee-jerk reaction to protest. “Do you think you can take it, schedule wise? With school and everything?”

“You did...”

He bit down a groan. “It’s different.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re smarter than I am.” Jack dropped his keys into the bowl and walked back to lean forward against the counter. “You’re pre-med, real school. What you’re learning is hard, and it actually matters. Mine was just how to draw a more convincing line; that isn’t anything.”

“Sure it is,” Crutchie argued. “It’s important to you, so it’s important to me.”

Jack rolled his eyes and huffed. “You know what I mean. People  _ need _ doctors, and those doctors need to know what they’re doing.  _ That’s _ important.”

Crutchie waved him off. “I’m not going to argue with you about this. At least for the summer, I’m taking more hours.”

Jack didn’t have any reasonable objection to that, so he nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“It still won’t be enough...” Crutchie mumbled, looking over the letter again and biting his thumbnail.

“That’s why I’m getting another job,” Jack answered. Now that he was done with school, he had more time that he could fill with work, plus a fancy piece of paper that made him more marketable.

“Just don’t wear yourself out,” Crutchie told him, dragging his fingers through his hair and leaving it all spiky.

Jack chuckled. “Ahh, the dreams of a richer man.”

* * *

Davey was still wound up like a spring when he got off the train in Albany. If anything, he was even more so. He supposed he’d been a little distant from his family, this semester, and who could blame him? But he regretted it. They were his family. He was supposed to go to them for support, and he’d all but completely shut them out.

He texted Jack while he was waiting to get his suitcase. “ _ Made it to Albany _ .”

He’d already heard about Jack and Crutchie’s new rent situation, and the whole thing made his blood boil. There was nothing he could do about it, of course, and that just made it worse. They deserved better.

His phone pinged a few times as a flurry of various heart emojis came in from Jack, along with one  _ “Are we there yet? _ ” from Sarah.

“ _ Just waiting on my suitcase _ ,” he replied to Sarah.

It took a few minutes to get his suitcase, and then he started off into the crowd. The station was pretty full—not so much that he had to push past people, but still more than he would’ve liked.

Another text came in from Sarah. “ _ We just pulled into the parking lot. _ ”

He breathed out a sigh of relief and headed that way. It wouldn’t be long, now…

It was easy to follow the stream of people out the big double doors of the station, and after a minute or two of looking out over the parking lot, scanning for his Dad’s old sedan, Davey heard a mildly distant shout of, “Where’s my dumber half?” And then he spotted Sarah, with the rest of the family just behind her.

Davey broke into a smile. “Dumber half!?” he shouted indignantly.

“I beat you in the fourth grade spelling bee by  _ miles! _ ” she retorted loudly.

Davey rolled his eyes and started towards them, walking quickly. They met in the middle, and Sarah went in for a hug, grinning. “You ready for a boring ass summer?”

“You have no idea how ready I am for a boring ass summer.”


	61. Home Is Where the Uncomfortable Questions Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey tries to settle in at home, and Sarah always knows when something’s wrong with her twin. Jack and Crutchie plan for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spring Break! Spring Break! Spring Break!

“So, David, how was your first semester at NYU?” Mrs. Jacobs asked, raising her voice slightly to be heard over Les and Sarah’s conversation.

“Oh.” Davey dropped his fork, and suddenly the entire dinner table went quiet. He glanced around the table at the eager faces of his family, waiting to hear all about what were arguably the worst few months of his life. “...Good.”

Sarah was grinning at him the way she always did when the conversation drifted close to a secret they shared—Jack, in this case—and Mr. Jacobs chuckled. “Just ‘good’?”

“It was...well...” Davey panicked and reached for the first shitty thing he could think of to explain his hesitation. “I sorta got a concussion towards the start...”

His parents frowned. “What?” Mrs. Jacobs asked, concerned, as Mr. Jacobs overlapped with, “When did this happen?”

Davey cringed, shoving food aimlessly around his plate. There was a reason he hadn’t told them in the first place. “Back in February? I fell down some stairs...”

“Oh, honey, are you okay?” Mrs. Jacobs asked. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Davey assured her. “I didn’t want you to worry. I had people looking out for me.”

Mrs. Jacobs opened her mouth to continue worrying, but Sarah spoke over her. “Mom, that’s forever ago now. He’s fine.”

Davey gestured to her in agreement.

Mrs. Jacobs frowned. “I don’t want you hiding it from us when something’s wrong.”

“It was just a bump on the head, Esther. I’m sure he’d tell us if something actually bad happened, right David?” Mr. Jacobs said.

“Right,” Davey answered numbly and prayed to god they didn’t see right through him.

Sarah frowned, but didn’t say anything as Mr. Jacobs continued. “What else? Les tells us you made some friends?”

“Quite a few, actually.” Davey smiled, thinking of Jack and Crutchie’s ‘ragtag bag of asshats’.

Les grinned. “How’s Kelly?”

Sarah hid her smile behind a fake cough, and Davey probably blushed. He always blushed.

“Yes, tell us about this mysterious Kelly!” Mrs. Jacobs enthused.

Davey chuckled nervously. “Right. Kelly.”

Davey’s parents always taught him not to lie. He wasn’t good at it. He didn’t like the way it felt in his mouth and his stomach and his chest. He had already lied a couple times that night—little white lies, though—nothing like this, nothing like hiding an entire boyfriend in the proverbial closet. It was, by all accounts, the perfect time to come out. He could make the excuse to his family that he wanted to tell them together, in person. The fear was still there, though—the fear of disappointment, the fear of rejection, the fear of not being the perfect child.

So Davey opened his mouth, and he lied.

“She’s great,” he told his family, shooting an apologetic look towards Sarah. “She’s really, really great...”

Sarah offered him a quick, sympathetic smile, which narrowly avoided turning into a cringe when their mother said, “You should invite her up to visit over the summer.”

Davey gritted his teeth. “Right. Yeah. Absolutely. We’ll see.”

“Ooh!” Mrs. Jacobs suddenly exclaimed. “Invite her to the Fourth of July Party!”

Mr. Jacobs nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

Davey nodded. He could invite Kelly, for sure. That didn’t mean Kelly would show up.

* * *

After what had to be the most exhausting dinner of his life, Davey returned to his bedroom and flopped face-first into his pillow. His room was exactly how he left it, right down to the angle of the book he left sitting on his desk. It was strange, as if an entire semester had just been wiped away, disappeared, as if it had never happened.

He didn’t want that. Not all of it, anyway.

In between all the bullshit, there had been a lot of good things. Great things. There had been study sessions that devolved into nonsense with Elmer, Romeo, and Tommy Boy. There had been Star Wars marathons with Jack and Crutchie. There had been blueberry syrup and grilled cheese and pretzels. Davey was a different person than he had been at the start—better in some ways, worse in others, but different through and through.

He rolled over onto his back and retrieved his phone from his pocket. He had a text from Romeo about some summer festival in his town that they should totally go to, a screenshot from Spot of something stupid Race texted with a rolling-eyes emoji, and a screenshot from Race of something totally reasonable Spot texted that just wasn’t what he wanted to hear, also with a rolling-eyes emoji. Davey smiled. Through it all, he had managed to get a good thing going in Manhattan.

Another text pinged in, and Davey smiled as Jack’s name lit up across the scene.

“ _ How’s family? _ ”

“ _ They’re doing well _ ,” he replied quickly. “ _ They want to know all about Kelly… _ ”

“ _ Sure you don’t want me to find one of those gender swap filter apps? _ ”

“ _ For my family? No. For blackmail...? _ ”

A laughing emoji, followed by, “ _ Blackmail? Please, I have no shame and you know it _ ”

Davey started to type out a reply, but stopped as there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

The door opened and Sarah entered, crossing the room to plop down onto Davey’s bed next to him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Davey parroted, setting his phone down next to him. “What’s up?”

“What, I’m not allowed to say ‘hi’?” she teased.

“I didn’t say that.” Davey shifted so he was sitting up. “I asked ‘what’s up’.”

She shrugged. “Nothing really.” Sarah turned so she could lean up against the backboard of his bed. “So, now that the interrogation’s over, how was the semester  _ really? _ ”

Davey narrowly avoided groaning out loud. “It was good,” he lied again.

“Okay,” she looked at him flatly, “you know you’re bad at lying, right?”

“I’m not lying,” he said way too fast. “It was fine.”

She continued to just stare blankly at him, waiting for him to crack. He stood up and went to his suitcase by the door, which he had yet to unpack, and began sorting things. Sarah continued to stare him down from her spot on his bed. This was a technique she had employed since they were children—she’d just follow him, staring in silent disapproval, until he’d relent and start talking. Once, it went on for three days. This time, though, he didn’t even know where to start. The words were too big, too scary, too real. Davey was ready to put everything behind him, ignore it, out of sight, out of mind, right out of history.

“It’s nothing,” he said, picking up a pile of shirts and carrying them towards his closet.

She frowned at him. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Yeah?” Davey huffed. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like something’s wrong, and you’re hiding it.”

Davey wasn’t aware someone could defensively hang up a shirt, but then he did it. “Nothing’s wrong, Sarah.”

She narrowed her eyes, somehow managing to stare at him even more intensely than she already was.

“What do you want me to say?” Davey asked, going back to his suitcase.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong!”

“Nothing is wrong, Sarah!”

She looked surprised by the sudden change in tone, and maybe a little hurt. Growing up, there had been so few times he’d tried to keep something from her. They shared  _ everything _ , but some things weren’t meant to be shared.

Davey couldn’t even make sense of it to share it, try as he might for well over a month.

”I’m not— I don’t—” He sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sarah looked like she was going to argue, but after a second she sighed. “Okay. But you know you  _ can _ , if you want to.”

“Right,” Davey grumbled. “I’m going to take a shower.” Really, he was going to flee the room and this conversation.

She huffed quietly and got off the bed. “I’ll get outta your hair.”

“Thanks.” Davey was already on his way out the door. There was a part of him that wanted to tell Sarah—to talk through it and let her comfort him the way only she could. That was hard, though. Pretending it never happened was easier.

* * *

Jack tore another page out of his sketchbook, grumbling nonsense as he wadded it up and chucked it at the trash can. “Kobe.” It bounced off the rim, rolling a short way across the floor to join the other discarded papers.

Crutchie snorted. “Weren’t you saying something a while back about being a ‘sports man’, now?”

“Gimme a break; I’ve only had one sports man lesson.”

Snickering, Crutchie got up from the couch and started towards the kitchen. “What do you want for dinner? It’s getting late.”

“I want some proper artistic inspiration,” Jack grumbled, leaning over the table and once again putting pencil to paper without any destination in mind.

Crutchie hummed, opening the fridge. “You got a recipe for that?”

“No, that’s the problem.” Jack began to aimlessly doodle.

“Then we can’t have proper artistic inspiration for dinner.” Crutchie closed the fridge door with a  _ thump _ .

Jack groaned, slumping down in his chair and sliding part way under the table. “I need to make things, but my head is stupid.”

“Why do you need to make things?” Crutchie asked, making his way back into the living room.

“So that I can sell things,” Jack replied.

Crutchie picked up Jack’s latest discarded sketch and smoothed it out. He frowned. “What’s wrong with this one?”

Jack wiggled a bit, scooting back up properly into his chair. “The line work is messy.”

“I thought you did it on purpose,” Crutchie said, dropping the crumpled paper into the trash can. “It looks like a style.”

Jack grumbled wordlessly, frowning at his blank sketchbook. He sighed. “I’m never gonna get off the ground if I’m just pumping out bullshit.”

“It’s really good bullshit—”

“Yeah, but it’s still bullshit,” Jack cut him off, not unkindly. “No one’s gonna wanna buy a random landscape or a portrait of someone they don’t know or a fat ass bird. It’s gotta mean something. It ain’t about the paint, folks want feeling.” He gestured at his sketchbook in frustration. “I got no feeling.”

Crutchie sputtered. “ _ You _ have no feeling? You? Jack Kelly? No feeling.”

He flailed dismissively. “No, shut up, I mean specifically.”

“Artists,” Crutchie scoffed. “Maybe you’d have more brain power if you ate some food.”

“Maybe I’d have more brain power if I had more brain.” Jack pouted.

“I’m ordering pizza,” Crutchie concluded. “What do you want on it?”

“Effortless talent.” Jack slid all the way off his chair and down under the table.

Crutchie pulled out his phone. “Barbecue chicken and onion. Got it.”

“No one knows me like you do,” Jack said tragically from the floor.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jack sighed, staring blindly at the underside of the table. He needed to do something; he couldn’t just mope around the apartment failing to create until inspiration struck. Artistic tragedy doesn’t pay the bills until after the fact, and in the meantime, nannying and nights at an auto shop weren’t gonna be enough.

Once Crutchie got off the phone with the pizza place, he turned to look at Jack over the back of the couch. “I talked to my boss at the library. I can’t go full time, but she’s giving me more hours.”

Jack climbed out from under the table, managing to hit his head on the edge of it as he stood up. “ _ Shit _ ,” he hissed, pressing his hand to the point of impact. “That’s good,” he continued, moving to join Crutchie in the living room.

“We could always look for a different apartment,” Crutchie suggested. “A studio would be cheaper. Maybe we could find something on the first floor...”

“I’ll get on finding that third job, too,” Jack sighed.

Crutchie frowned contemplatively. “Maybe you should...I don’t know...drop one and go full time on another? Three jobs is a lot to keep up with. If it was two, but with more hours—”

Jack cringed. “I already asked at the shop, and my boss said he doesn’t have more time to slot me in. Apparently there’s a bumper crop of kids fresh out of trade school, who are more skilled in wrench wielding than me.”

“Then drop it and get something else full time.”

Jack grunted, nodding. “Probably a good idea.”

“I could help you look,” Crutchie offered.

Jack smiled. “God knows you’re better at finding good shit than I am.”

Crutchie shrugged, smirking. “It is a gift.”

“No  _ you’re _ a gift,” Jack teased.

Crutchie rolled his eyes. “Sap.”

Jack aimed to reach for his laptop on the coffee table, but groaned when he remembered it wasn’t there, and he had to go fetch it from the kitchen.

“This sucks. I’m barely graduated, I haven’t even done anything yet, and it’s already all shit.”

“What do you mean?” Crutchie asked. “Sure, rent got jacked up, but other than that, everything’s the same.”

Jack collected his laptop and returned to drop back into the armchair. “It just feels like everything’s a rush now. I’m done with school, I gotta get my big boy job and start on my career and become a super rich and famous artist.” He frowned. “And now there’s nothing in my way, except me.”

“Who said you’re in your way?” Crutchie laughed. “Jack, you graduated...yesterday. Take a breath. Oh my god.”

Jack grumbled nonsensically for a moment before managing a proper start to a sentence. “I just don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“You  _ won’t _ ,” Crutchie insisted. “Jack, look at me.”

Jack bit back a sigh and looked at Crutchie. He knew full well he was being ridiculous, but somehow it’s a lot easier to listen when someone else tells you you’re a dickhead.

“Think about your life, for a second,” Crutchie said. “Look at how far you’ve come, all the things you’ve accomplished. None of it was luck, Jack. You earned it.”

“That don’t mean everything’s just gonna fall into place though,” Jack complained.

“No, it means you can do it, and you will.”

He smiled wanly. “You got too much faith in me, kid.”

“I only believe in what I’ve seen,” Crutchie argued.

A small, proper smile pushed through. “God, I would be such a disaster without you,” Jack chuckled fondly, shaking his head.

“I know.” Crutchie pretended to flip his non-existent long hair over his shoulder. There was a moment of silence as Crutchie checked a text on his phone. Then, “How’s Dave?”

Jack sighed, glancing at his own phone, still with no new notifications. “Quiet.”

“I’m sure he’s just settling in with his family,” Crutchie assured him.

“Yeah.” Jack sighed. “He’s not gonna be able to talk so much while he’s home, what with the whole.” He gestured vaguely at himself.

Crutchie smiled sympathetically, and Jack sighed again, looking listlessly at his phone before flipping it face down on the coffee table.

“I get it, y’know, I understand. Comin’ out to your family’s gotta be a big deal, gotta happen at the right time and whatever, I just...” He trailed off into another sigh.

Crutchie nodded. “You feel invisible.”

“I feel like an asshole.” Jack got up from the chair and walked over towards the kitchen, not needing to get anything, but needing to move. “It’s an important thing, it’s his family, it should go his way, when and how he wants it to, right?”

“Right. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.”

Jack grumbled wordlessly, frowning at nothing. “Yeah...and it’s not just that it’s important for him—hang on, I sound like a dick, but lemme get to the point—it’s important for me too.” Jack leaned back against the counter, gripping the edge on either side of him. “I like him, Crutchie. I  _ really _ like him. I know I’ve said that I’m in love before, but I swear to God, Dave is different.”

“He is,” Crutchie agreed. “I can tell.”

Jack smiled, briefly dropping his head and exhaling shortly. “He’s everything.” Crutchie grinned and Jack chuckled. “Call me a sap, whipped, whatever, but,” Jack shrugged, “he’s it, y’know?”

“Yeah. You know how I know?”

“How?”

“He makes you fucking  _ miserable _ and you  _ love _ it.”

Jack laughed. “Shut up, you’re an ass.”

“It’s true!” Crutchie protested.

Jack shook his head, chuckling fondly. “Nah, it is, you’re right. That’s the point though.” He sighed helplessly, pushing a hand through his hair and leaving it all fluffed out. “How’s this supposed to work if I don’t exist? His family is real important to ‘im, and I’ll be coming in on a lie. Even if he told ‘em all right now, it’d still be there. We been together, like, three months now, and the longer it goes, the worse it’ll get.” He sighed again. “I want this to work, Crutchie. I want this to be real and to be forever.” He hadn’t actually said it out loud before, and the finality of it sort of scared him, but Jack wasn’t lying. He  _ did _ want forever. “And if it’s gonna work, then that means being part of that family.” He chuckled nervously. “I’ve never been really part of any family, and that was usually ones that, like, wanted me—at least initially. How’m I supposed to work with a family where I don’t exist?”

“They will,” Crutchie said. “He can’t hide you forever.”

Jack frowned. ‘Hide him’. He didn’t like that.

Crutchie stood and made his way towards the kitchen. “Jack...are you secure in your relationship with David?” he asked.

Jack looked up at him, mildly surprised. “What’cha mean?”

“Well, do you love him?” Crutchie asked in that bored way one does when they know the answer.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“And do you trust him?”

“Yeah.”

“Then everything is going to be fine.”


	62. Shenannygans Chapter Four: Mei Larkin Is a Gift from God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack takes the kids to the zoo, and he and Davey accidentally have a serious conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for bearing with us through this period of filler. We swear we have more plot points on the way.

“Boys, come on! We’re gonna miss the bus!” Jack called up the stairs, feeling very much like a suburban soccer mom, what with that sentence, the big, fancy, two-seat stroller, and the diaper and snack bag.

That morning, Medda had suggested Jack take the kids to the zoo, and he was happy to comply. There was one of those backpack-harness-leash contraptions for Mei, which Jack thought was kind of a weird concept to begin with, but after watching her tear through the house excitedly yelling out all the different animals she could think of, he figured it was a good idea after all, so he didn’t have to worry about her running off.

Chris and Jackson made their way downstairs without much fuss, though Jackson didn’t look thrilled.

“You guys ready to go?” Jack asked, having finally convinced Mei—with the help of a box of animal crackers—that getting in the front seat of the stroller was a better idea than trying to climb up the bannister of the staircase.

“Yeah,” Chris answered for both of them.

“Cool.” Jack bundled the diaper bag into the storage space of the stroller, behind the seat for Mei, and under the carrier for Catalina. “I got snacks, and stuff for the girls, and sunscreen and all that fun field trip stuff. We can get lunch while we’re there, so we should be good to go.”

“Cool,” Jackson parroted, starting towards the door.

It was a short walk to the bus stop, and the bus was only about seven minutes late—off to a pretty good start. Jack had checked and double checked the schedule; there were a few stops between the Larkin house and the zoo, so assuming things ran relatively on time, they should get there in about forty-five minutes. They got a few weird looks, probably on account of the strange mixture of ages and races in their little, motley crew, and it was a bit of a struggle to get the stroller on board, but the bus wasn’t very full, so it was pretty easy to slide it into an empty row, rather than unloading the girls and folding up the stroller. Mei was quite unhappy with this seating arrangement, and she whined and fussed until Jack set her on his lap so she could see out the window.

An old woman across the aisle from them smiled. “Lovely child. Is she yours?”

Jack returned her smile. “Sadly, I’m just the babysitter.”

“For all of them?”

He nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

The old woman chuckled. “Bless your soul.”

Jack smiled again, and his attention was diverted by Catalina starting to fuss. He shifted Mei out of his lap and into the seat next to him so he could pick up Catalina. The boys mostly entertained each other, as usual. It brought back memories of Jack and Crutchie, when they were kids.

Jack would have given anything for him and Crutchie to have been adopted by the same family...or adopted at all, for that matter. That would have changed everything. No years of sleeping on the street and stealing food to survive, no jail time, no fighting for his life—and Crutchie’s—each and every day. Of course, the likelihood of them both being taken by the same family was low, and Jack wasn’t sure what he would’ve done without Crutchie by his side. Adopted or not, that kid was his family.

These thoughts managed to keep him occupied until they were almost to the Bronx, when Mei saw something out the window that she liked and started screaming, “Fwancis! Fwaaanciiis!”

Jack snapped back to reality and laughed, shifting Catalina to one arm so Mei could reclaim her seat on his lap. “Yeah?”

She couldn’t articulate what she wanted so bad for him to look at, but she pointed very vigorously at a woman at the crosswalk with a cat in her purse.

“Oh, whoa,” Jack responded enthusiastically, “she’s got a cat in her bag!” He shuffled Catalina around in his arms, lifting her a bit higher and aiming her towards the window. “You see the cat, Lina?” Catalina gurgled pointlessly, and Jack nodded. “You’re right; babies don’t have good long distance vision. What was I thinking?”

“Cat,” Mei repeated. “Meow.”

Jack chuckled. “You like animals a lot, huh?” he asked her.

“Meow!”

For the next twenty minutes, Mei proceeded to list every animal she could think of, frequently repeating ‘cat’ and ‘elephant’ and failing at least five different ways to say ‘giraffe’. About two thirds of the way through the trip, she was distracted from her listing by a sudden infatuation with one of the new passengers—a young man with dreadlocks. She was absolutely transfixed.

Jack apologized for her staring, but the young man told him not to worry about it and seemed perfectly happy to engage in a conversation that was mostly Mei babbling, and playing with her own hair as she lamented how much more interesting his was.

“You know how to braid?” the man asked Jack.

“Uh, it’s been awhile.”

“You should learn to braid her hair. Sounds like she’d like it.”

Jack nodded. “That’s a good idea. Thanks, man.”

When it was time to get off the bus, Mei was very upset that the man and his dreadlocks weren’t coming with them, and she didn’t stop pouting for the next two blocks. As soon as the gates of the zoo came into sight, however, all else was forgotten, and she began to bounce and squeal, thankfully not quite succeeding in unbuckling herself and escaping the stroller. Even Jackson seemed to perk up a little bit as they neared the entrance.

“Okay,” Jack spoke as they joined the stream of people heading towards the front gates. “You two are in charge of where we’re goin’,” he gestured between Jackson and Chris, “but I packed bungee cords, and I’m not afraid to use ‘em, so no runnin’ off.”

Chris laughed. “Yes, sir.”

Though he was often quiet, Chris was a really good natured kid. He was polite, smart, and had a good sense of humor. It made Jack think that whatever happened to Jackson happened before Medda got to him.

They approached the ticket booth, and Jack purchased day passes for each of them—Chris’ and Jackson’s were discounted, and Mei and Catalina got in for free since they were so young—and he grabbed a map from a nearby kiosk, holding it out towards Jackson. “Okay, where we headed to, first?”

Jackson took the map—Jack was vaguely surprised he was willing to touch something that had been sullied by his hands—and looked it over with Chris. “The rhinos are right up here.”

Jack nodded. “Rhinos it is.”

Mei twisted around as best she could in the stroller. “What’s whino?”

“Uhh, y’know unicorns?”

She frowned. “Unicohn?”

“You know, like a horse with a horn on its head.” Jack extended his index finger, and put the back of that hand on his forehead, to imitate a horn.

“Like in your book with the fairies,” Chris added.

Mei’s little brow was still creased in adorable confusion.

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, rhinos are like real big, tough looking unicorns.”

They made their way up to the exhibit, and Mei was suddenly enthralled, wide-eyed and leaning forward in the stroller. Jack smiled as they pushed closer to the fence—one nice thing about lugging around an enormous stroller was people were more willing to get out of your way.

“Rhinos are cool,” Jackson said. “Sucks we’re making them go extinct.”

Jack nodded. “Seems to be that way with most anything cool.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “People are ruining all the cool stuff.”

“ _ You’re _ ruining all the cool stuff,” Jackson grumbled, and even Chris rolled his eyes.

Jack exhaled, not quite amused. “Good thing there’s plenty of people to counter my evil schemes.”

Part of him wanted to give up, let Jackson do and be what Jackson wanted to do and be and move on with the other kids. It was exhausting, when every move was wrong and nothing he did was good enough. It reminded him of a foster home or two. Another part of him wanted more than anything to fix this kid, give him all the support he himself had never had, and maybe keep him from turning out broken.

Before Jack could fall too far down that rabbit hole of depressing thoughts, Mei started wiggling and demanding to be let down, out of the stroller, and he walked around to unbuckle her. “Same deal goes for you—no running, or I get the bungee cords.”

She wiggled herself down and darted over to the fence, which she immediately started to climb, but luckily Chris was right there and grabbed the back of her shirt.

Jack cringed. “Right, bungee cords it is.”

He moved back to dig around in the compartment of the stroller, retrieving the backpack-leash thingie that Ms. Larkin had set out on the counter. “Nooo,” Mei whined when he strapped it on her, and Jack smiled sympathetically.

“Yeah, but if you get in with the animals, I’ll get in trouble.”

It was a token protest, and she was enthralled by the animals again within moments.

“You know there’s a kind of rhino that just went extinct,” Jackson said, presumably to Chris. “Well, not quite, but there’s only, like, two girls left.”

Jack glanced towards him curiously. This was the first time he’d seen Jackson actually express any sort of genuine or serious interest in something.

In the quiet moment, Jack pulled his phone out to shoot a quick text to Davey. He had only been gone two days, but even such little time felt like forever. He didn’t even have anything particular to say, he just missed him.

“ _ Hey baby _ ”

He frowned, deleting the last word and replacing it with ‘Davey’, and then deleting the ‘y’ before pressing send. Jack wasn’t sure how his name was saved in Davey’s phone, and he didn’t want to accidentally out him if some family member happened to see their conversation.

By the time he finished typing, the kids were ready to move on, so they set out for the indoor Madagascar exhibit. Mei shrieked in delight when they entered the building.

“Monkey!”

“They’re not monkeys, Mei; they’re lemurs,” Jackson corrected her. “They look like monkeys, but they’re not.”

Mei pointed emphatically at the lemurs. “ _ Monkey _ .”

“ _ Lemur _ .”

Jack chuckled. “Man, if I’d ‘a known you guys were so into animals, we could’ve come sooner.”

Mei ran over to Jack and climbed up into his arms. “Monkey.”

He laughed. “Guess it takes one to know one, huh?”

Jackson huffed. “They’re lemurs. They’re different.”

“I thought they were all monkeys, and then like, lemurs an’ apes an’ whatever are the subspecies,” Jack mused.

Jackson shook his head. “They’re all different. Apes don’t have tails. Lemurs do, but they can’t, like, grab stuff with them.”

“And monkeys can?”

Jackson huffed irritably. “Yeah, duh.”

Well, two steps forward, one step back. Jack bit back a sigh. “Cool, good to know.”

A message came in on his phone and he pulled it back out of his pocket, flipping it right way up to glance at the screen. Davey had replied, “ _ Hey, Jack. :) What’s up? _ ”

Jack smiled, but it felt a little tight. It was weird talking ‘normally’ to Davey. “ _ Nothing really, just getting schooled by a 4th grader in regards to the biodiversity of primates. _ ”

“ _ Jackson? _ ”

“ _ Apparently he’s really interested in animals, I had no idea. You should talk to him about pinnipeds sometime. _ ”

“ _ Tell them all I said hello _ .”

“ _ The kids, or the pinnipeds? _ ” Jack smirked.

“ _ Wait, where are you? _ ”

“ _ Oh lol, we’re at the bronx zoo. _ ”

“ _ Then tell the kids AND the pinnipeds I said hi. _ ”

Jack had to take a moment before replying to pull Mei away from her efforts to climb a signpost that indicated which way the elephants were. “ _ How’s the family? _ ”

“ _ Nosy. _ ” Another message came in immediately after. “ _ But I love them _ .”

Jack smiled lightly. “ _ Ain’t that just the way _ ”

He couldn’t help but worry about when Davey’s family would inevitably find out that their darling boy was not only dating another, somewhat less darling boy, but had also been lying about it for months. Of course, he didn’t get very far down this familiar path of thought before Mei once again needed deterring from her efforts to climb things that shouldn’t be climbed. This time, it was another family’s stroller. Jack darted over to collect her, apologizing to the man pushing the stroller, who looked more amused than anything. He was definitely going to get his exercise for the day.

* * *

“I’m just asking,” Les insisted, “are hobbit meals really small, or do hobbits have a really high metabolism? Because  _ they’re _ small, so they shouldn’t need that much food.”

Sarah groaned loudly, and Davey just shook his head. They were about three quarters of the way through family movie night—or, as Davey and Sarah preferred to call it, ‘Les talks through a movie night’—watching The Fellowship of the Ring, and they had run out of popcorn a while back, so there was nothing to occupy Les’ mouth except words.

“It’s gotta be the metabolism, ‘cause they show, like, normal sized meals,” he went on, “and the books describe pretty extravagant meals, so like, there’s gotta be some biological factor.”

“Just watch the movie, kid,” Mr. Jacobs snickered.

Before Les had a chance to answer, Davey’s phone rang. He grabbed it and silenced it as fast as he could, checking the caller ID as he did. It was Jack. His heart did that stupid little fluttery thing that it always did around Jack, and he promptly stood up from his spot on the couch. “Excuse me.” He all but ran up the stairs, and he answered the phone just as he reached his room. “Hi,” he said lamely, smiling like the absolute loser he was.

“Hey, Dave,” Jack greeted, sounding not quite like himself. Well, he sounded like himself, just not the way he usually sounded when talking to Davey.

“How was the zoo?” Davey asked, closing the door behind him and taking a seat on his bed.

“Fun, in an exhausting kind of way,” Jack answered.

Davey couldn’t help it. “Are you okay? You sound,” he searched for the right word and drew a blank, “weird.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you doing anything with your family? I don’t want to interrupt...”

Davey chuckled. “I mean, yes, it’s family movie night, but you saved me from another ten minutes of logistics about the hobbit digestive system, so interrupt away.”

Jack laughed. “Sounds fun.” Now that it had been confirmed there wasn’t a direct fear of being overheard, he sounded more relaxed.

Davey smiled. Jack was probably the most considerate person he had ever met. “How are the kids?”

“Well Jackson still hates me, but I think he had fun, despite his best efforts.”

“Poor kid,” Davey chuckled.

“I know right? I’m practically a slave driver.”

Davey laid back on his bed and closed his eyes. He could almost pretend Jack was there, with him. “Did you tell them hello for me?”

“No. Jackson asked why you weren’t coming, and I told him you think he’s so annoying that you moved back upstate.” Davey could practically hear Jack smirking.

“Don’t be mean,” Davey said, but he couldn’t hold back a little laugh, “he’s just a kid.”

“No you’re right, I told him it’s cause you think  _ I’m _ annoying.” Jack snorted. “That one, he believed.”

Davey grinned. “You are annoying. I like it, though.”

“Only ‘like’?” Jack teased.

“Only ‘like’,” Davey confirmed. “I love  _ you _ , though.

“I love you, too,” Jack replied immediately, and Davey could hear his smile in his voice.

Davey sighed happily. “How’s Crutchie?”

“He’s good,” Jack answered, but his voice had tightened a fraction. “He’s picking up more hours at the library, but I think he likes it.”

Right. Their landlord was jacking up their rent, and they were already struggling as is. “Will it be enough?” Davey asked.

Jack sighed. “No, but I’m looking for more work, too. We’ll be fine.”

Davey cringed. That meant Jack would be working three jobs. He was going to run himself ragged. “Be gentle with yourself, okay?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” Jack assured him. “I don’t have a whole lot going on right now. The auto shop is still only giving me a few evenings a week, and the kids hardly count as work, anyway, y’know?”

“I don’t know; it sounds like they make you work pretty hard,” Davey teased.

Jack chuckled. “Coloring isn’t exactly ‘hard’.”

“Chasing Mei around the zoo?”

He laughed. “Okay, yeah, that part is an ordeal. Still though, the kids are great. It doesn’t really feel like a job.”

“You’re going to be a really good dad,” Davey said, only realizing the possible implications of that statement after he said it. “I mean...if you want, you know...”

“Do  _ you _ want kids?” Jack asked, keeping his tone artificially light and casual. “Eventually, I mean, like not—”

Davey tried to stifle his sudden burst of laughter in the palm of his hand. “God, I can’t believe we’re talking about kids. Um...yeah, I think I’d like to have a kid or two, someday. You?”

Jack was already talking over the second half of his sentence. “I’m sorry, that was weird, we don’t have to—”

“Hey, I started it!”

Jack chuckled some more. “You did.” He let out a somewhat blustery exhale. “It’s funny, I never really gave it much thought till recently, but yeah, I do want kids, eventually.”

Davey smiled. “They’re pretty cute.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “Would you want a boy or a girl, or do you not care?”

Davey considered this for a moment, then concluded, “A boy. It would be hard to raise a girl without a mom. I wouldn’t know what to tell her, I’d be terrified of messing it all up.”

Jack laughed again. “I’d rather have a girl; boys are the worst.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Davey snickered. “One came up and hit on me in the dining hall a few months ago, when I was just trying to enjoy my lunch. Can you believe?”

“Disgraceful. You should’ve hit him with your tray.”

“I should have, but he was kinda cute.”

“Mm, well that doesn’t speak very well to your judgement, but it sounds like it worked out okay,” Jack teased.

Davey hummed contemplatively, mind going back a few steps. “I bet Sarah would help me with a girl.”

“Yeah, plus you two are twins so it’d basically be her kid, anyway.”

“We’re fraternal twins,” Davey laughed. “I’m no more related to her than to Les, genetically.”

“I don’t think Les would be as useful for co-parenting, he’s a bit young.”

“So am I!” Davey shot back.

Jack sputtered dismissively. “I don’t mean right  _ now! _ ”

“Les is going to get older too, you know.” Davey frowned. “Oh, I don’t want to think about that...”

“See? He’ll always be your baby brother, so it wouldn’t work.”

“Fine, you win. I guess we can’t let Crutchie co-parent either, huh?”

“No way—not if I’m still parenting  _ him _ .”

“Mmm, I’m pretty sure he’s parenting you,” Davey retorted.

Jack gasped. “Rude!”

“And true! Crutchie is the only reason you have groceries and clean socks.”

“Babe, we’ve talked about this,” Jack pouted—Davey could heat it in his voice, “ _ I’m _ the parent, he’s the housewife.”

Davey frowned. “Wait—”

“Don’t think about it, it gets weird.”

Davey hummed, stopping just short of telling Jack he missed him again. He did, of course, but it wasn’t as sharply painful as he thought it would be, as it was at first. It was time, that was all, and he and Jack were family. Jack would be there when he came back.


	63. Davey Is Worth Sixteen and a Half Chickens or One Goat, Take It or Leave It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A.K.A. A Life Changing Visit to Chip’s Clubhouse
> 
> As usual, things don’t go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Us? Moving the plot forward in The Torrid Affair of Kack Jelly and Kosher Dave from Manhattan??? It’s more likely than you think.

A week passed slowly and uselessly. Jack applied to nearly a hundred jobs, and the most he got back was an email saying that the company was going a different direction in their selection, but he was welcome to apply to different jobs with them in the future. He worked his shift at the auto shop and spent the majority of his free time painting or drawing. Thursday afternoon, he dedicated a few hours to going back through all his old art, scanning or taking pictures so he could make himself a portfolio. Saturday night, after a full day at the park with the Larkin children, Jack called Davey, and he helped him clean up his resume.

On the following Monday, as Jack was going through the metro station to head back home from the grocery store, a ‘help wanted’ sign pasted to the side of a newsstand caught his eye. _ Were newsstands even still a thing? _ Jack chuckled quietly to himself and decided to check it out—what did he have to lose?

* * *

“‘Ey Crutchie, you home?” Jack called, elbowing the door to 32B shut behind him.

“Yeah,” Crutchie called from the couch, sitting up. “I, uh...” He looked a little embarrassed. “I called outta work today. Leg’s givin’ me shit...”

“Gross, want me to cut it off?” Jack replied, heading into the kitchen to unload the groceries.

“Yes, please.”

“Cool. I’m gonna put the groceries away first, though.” Jack set the bags down on the counter and began to empty them. “I found another job.”

Crutchie perked up at that. “Really? Where at?”

“There’s this newsstand in the subway station—I didn’t know newsstands were even a thing anymore? But yeah, they had a ‘help wanted’ sign up, so I went and asked.”

“And they hired you?”

Jack moved to the pantry to put away the bread and peanut butter. “Well, the guy wants me to come back tomorrow with my resume, but I doubt there’s much by way of like, qualifications or whatever.” He lightly kicked the cupboard closed and turned back towards Crutchie. “It’s just standing there ringing out magazines and snacks and papers and whatever.”

“And it’ll work with your other jobs?”

“Yeah.” Jack nodded. “There’s only the one guy working there, so he’s got loads of time to give me.” 

Crutchie smiled, little ray of sunshine that he was. “That’s great, Jack!” 

Jack shrugged. “I mean, the pay isn’t great, but it’s something.”

“And something is better than nothing.”

“I’ll keep looking, o’ course, find something better, but for now...”

“Should keep a roof over our heads.”

Jack huffed, unamused. “Here’s hopin’.”

* * *

It was official. Davey wanted to cry. He didn’t know how he was supposed to go on.

“Yep.” Sarah let the tape measure _ zchoop _ back up into its little case. “Same height.”

“Told you,” Les snickered.

“Oh my god.” Davey buried his face in his hands.

“And I could still grow more.” Les replied smugly.

Davey groaned. “Shut up, I hate that!”

“You can’t tell me what to do if I’m taller than you!”

Sarah chuckled, ruffling her ‘little’ brother’s hair. “That’s not how it works, Les.”

“You can’t tell me how things work, I’m taller than you!”

Davey clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, kid. Let’s get going. I think it’s supposed to rain later.”

It was a long standing tradition for Les and Davey to go to ‘Chip’s Clubhouse’—the little house a few blocks away that this eccentric retired couple had gutted and turned the yard into a mini golf course—when Davey was left on babysitting duty. Granted, there was no babysitting duty to be had nowadays, but tradition was tradition. Usually they would walk, but due to the possible impending rain, they hopped in the car and set out. It felt kind of weird for Davey to be behind the wheel again, after a whole semester of not driving, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

As they pulled into the parking lot that was actually just a driveway with a bunch of gravel poured along to make it wider, Les lightly bapped Davey’s arm. “Hey, so when is Kelly gonna come meet the fam?”

Davey half-smiled, half-cringed, and chuckled awkwardly. “One of these days.”

“When? Sarah said she’s really cool.”

“I don’t know, Les.” Davey put the car in park and hopped out. “Kelly has a life, too.”

“That doesn’t revolve around you?” Les scoffed, getting out of the car to follow Davey into the house that was now an office and equipment rental space. “Sounds like bullshit to me.”

Davey sputtered. “When did you start cursing?”

“I’m almost in high school, David,” Les chuckled.

“That doesn’t mean you have to start cursing!”

“I didn’t say I _ have _ to!” he protested, still amused.

Davey huffed unhappily. He had gone away to college, and Les had gone and grown up without him. He was supposed to be there for him, be his big brother.

“Stop trying to change the subject.” Les pouted and poked Davey’s arm again.

“What?” Davey protested, swatting his arm away. “I wasn’t!”

“Yes, you were! We were talking about Kelly, not about me cursing!”

“Fine! God,” Davey laughed, opening the door to the shop. “Let’s get our stuff, then we’ll talk.”

* * *

“There’s this little deli we go to a lot. They know us there. I’ll take you, next time you come with me to Manhattan.” Davey managed to get his golf ball in the vague vicinity of his target and started heading that way. “We went to the aquarium once, so that was fun. I don’t know, though; I think my favorite thing is just hanging out, watching movies and stuff.” He knocked the ball into the hole, and Les made some notes on their little score card. Davey, for his part, wasn’t keeping score.

“How long have you guys been a thing now?” Les asked.

Davey counted backwards in his head. “Three...and a half months? Something like that.”

Les nodded. “Nice.” He lined up his golf club to take a slightly overzealous swing, sending the ball ricocheting down the course.

“Nice,” Davey snickered.

Les rolled his eyes and huffed. “Let’s see you do better!”

“I just did.”

Les grumbled nonsensically, lining up for another shot. There was quiet for a moment, then he asked. “S d’you think you’re in love?”

Davey let out a little, breathless laugh. If Les only knew what Jack had done for him, what Jack had been for him, the lifetimes they had already been through together in a few short months. “Yeah,” he confessed, “I’m in love with him.”

Les looked over at him, eyebrows knit in confusion, and then Davey realized what he’d done.

He could have sworn his heart stopped beating, and the world got a little fuzzy around the edges. He looked down at his hands, knuckles white around the handle of his club. He couldn’t look at Les.

“‘Him’?”

“I—I mean—” Davey’s lie died on his lips.

Les turned to face him squarely. Unfortunately at this point, he was much too old to be easily tricked or brushed off. “Kelly’s a weird name for a dude.”

Davey bit his tongue until he tasted blood. It was too late to go back. Had it been a slip of the tongue, he’d have corrected it right away, and Les knew that. “...His name’s Jack Kelly.”

Les nodded with an impassable expression on his face. “That makes more sense.”

Davey sighed quietly, still avoiding his gaze like his life depended on it. “You have questions.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Les was frowning now, and his voice had gotten a little sharp.

Davey flinched slightly. “I was scared...”

“Of _ what _ ?” Les exhaled roughly, frustrated. “We tell each other everything—at least, _ I _ tell _ you _ everything.”

Davey swallowed hard as tears pricked behind his eyes. He could not let himself cry in front of his little brother. Not now. “Of this,” he said. His voice shook.

“Dave, I don’t care that you’re gay, I care that you _ lied _.”

“I’m _ sorry _,” Davey snapped. He let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Les.”

Les glared at the ground and took another swing at his golf ball, finally sinking it into the hole.

“Do you...” Davey hesitated, finally looking at his little brother. “Would you like to meet him?”

Les scoffed. “Is that okay?”

“Well, I don’t know what he’s doing today, but we could call him...”

* * *

Despite Jack’s plan to work as much as he could, Crutchie had demanded Jack set at least one day of the week aside to be his ‘weekend’. After briefly arguing, things ended as they usually did, with Jack unable to say no when Crutchie put his foot down. So, on Tuesday afternoon, Jack had the whole apartment to himself while Crutchie worked a shift at the library. Even though he had protested and complained, Jack was actually very glad to have a day off. He’d slept in—until around eight forty-five, which was about as late as his internal clock would allow—and after some time spent absently playing on his phone and watching TV, Jack decided to paint. He went to his closet to collect his box of paints and brushes, bringing along the paint stained tarp that was folded on top of it. He still had a few canvas panel boards from the pack Crutchie had gotten him for Happy WinterFriends, so he grabbed his old, somewhat busted table easel as well. He set up a workstation at the kitchen table, planning to start a landscape—probably some cliffs or a canyon, to play with perspective and lighting. Just as he sat down to lay out his paints—damn, he really needed to clean his palette; the buildup of old paint was getting out of hand—his phone began to buzz. Jack shifted to pull his phone out of his pocket, and his face lit up as he saw it was an incoming FaceTime from Davey. He fussed with his hair for half a second, but almost immediately gave it up as a lost cause, and swiped to answer the call.

“Hey, baby!” Jack greeted Davey happily.

Davey smiled, but Jack noticed his eyes were a little wet. “Hi, Jack.”

Jack’s voice immediately dropped into that special, gentle, soft tone that was only ever for Davey. “Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Davey shook his head. “Nothing. I...” He looked to the side, then back. “Do you want to meet my brother?”

Jack blinked, surprised. “Oh. Yeah, yeah for sure.”

Wait, did this mean Davey had come out to his family? They didn’t appear to be at home. They were outside, but Jack couldn’t tell where they were.

A boy appeared in the frame next to Davey.

Jack smiled. “Hey.”

The boy—Les, presumably—nodded his head in greeting. “Hey. I’d say I’ve heard so much about you, but I don’t know if any of it’s true or not.”

Jack tried not to cringe. “I’d hazard a guess that it’s all true—except for the being a girl part.”

Les quirked an eyebrow and smirked. “You got paint on your face, so I’m guessing the art major part is true.”

Jack let out a short laugh, quickly trying to wipe the paint off, but just smearing it. “Uh, yeah. Well, technically not anymore, I just graduated, but yeah.”

“What do you paint?”

“Anything that’ll stay still long enough.” Jack smiled, gaze quickly darting to Davey, and the fraught expression on Davey’s face softened just a little. “You’re about to start high school, right?” Jack asked, turning his attention back to Les.

“Yep!” he replied happily.

Jack nodded. “Cool, d’you like school? I hated high school.”

Les laughed, “Not really,” and Davey rolled his eyes.

“Yeah it pretty much sucks,” Jack agreed.

“Jack,” Davey scolded him, but he was smiling.

“Whaaat? He’s about to start high school! He knows words!”

Les looked pointedly at Davey. “See?”

“I don’t care that you said the word ‘suck’, I care that you’re telling him high school sucks, you idiot!” Davey protested.

Les laughed, and so did Jack. “It’s the truth!”

Davey pouted. “I liked high school very much, thank you.” He nodded his head to the side. “Parts of it, anyway.”

“Yeah, but you’re smart,” Jack waved dismissively.

Then Les pouted too, and suddenly Jack could see the family resemblance. “I’m smart, too!”

Jack laughed. “Guess it runs in the family, huh?”

“Guess so,” Davey said. “You’ve met Sarah, so you know.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, she’s pretty cool, too.”

Les reached in and took Davey’s phone from him, despite his quiet protests. “Do you have any siblings, Jack?”

Jack felt himself lock up the way he always did when anyone asked him questions that hit on his past. Luckily, years of practice had forced his autopilot smile into almost a reflex, and hardly anyone could see through that smile. “Nope, just me and Crutchie. We aren’t technically related, but we might as well be.”

“Cool.”

“Give him back, Les,” Davey reached for the phone, and Les dodged.

“So, you’re banging my brother.”

“Les!”

Jack choked and burst into laughter.

“First of all,” Les continued, “gross—not because you’re gay or anything, but because he’s my brother—and second—”

Davey wasn’t in the frame anymore, but Jack could still hear him. “Lester Jacobs, I swear to god—”

Jack tried and failed to stop laughing. “I’m not, actually.”

Les scoffed. “Well, what’s even the point of him, then?”

Jack didn’t even have to see Davey’s face to know that joke did not go over well. His eyebrows went up. “Literally everything.”

“You know he’s a total nerd, right? And also sometimes a _ liar _.” He shouted that last word offscreen, towards where Davey presumably was.

Jack once again bit back a wince. “I mean, thank god _ one _ of us has more than two brain cells.”

“Les, I am driving home without you if you do not give me my phone back,” Davey said, and Les rolled his eyes but reluctantly handed it over.

“Oh hey, Dave. Cice to see you,” Jack teased, keeping his mannerism forcibly light.

Now it was Davey’s turn to roll his eyes—yep, definitely brothers.

Les pressed himself back into the frame, up against Davey’s side. “As I was saying, Mr. Kelly—what are your intentions towards my brother dearest?”

“Well, I dunno, that’ll all depend on how many chickens you think he’s worth,” Jack replied, all business.

“He’s worth at _ least _ a goat. Take it or leave it.”

Jack cringed. “Oh man, you want a _ goat? _” He sucked a breath in through his teeth. “That’s gonna take a while...”

“Fine,” Les huffed. “I’d take sixteen and a half chickens in lieu of a goat, but that’s my final offer.”

Jack muttered under his breath, still easily loud enough to be heard. “Sixteen and a half chickens, goddamn.” He then continued in a normal tone. “D’you do layaway?”

“You can’t have my brother until I have sixteen and a half chickens or a goat. I’ll put him on hold for you.”

“This is great, guys,” Davey said sarcastically. “I feel very valued as a person.”

“I love you,” Jack replied sweetly.

“Do you?” Les asked. “You’re awful hesitant to dish out sixteen and a half chickens for him.”

“What? No, I just said it’ll take time!” Jack protested.

“During which someone could come along and offer me seventeen chickens, and then how could I refuse?”

“Stop trying to sell me!” Davey whined.

“I could always just steal you...” Jack mused, tapping a finger against his lips thoughtfully.

Davey laughed incredulously. “You know what, kid?” He handed his phone back to Les. “You can have him.”

Jack gasped, dramatically insulted. “What—no! Come back!”

“Earn my favor!”

“I don’t have any chickens yet!” Jack wailed.

“I don’t want your damn chickens!” Davey shouted back.

“Waitwaitwaitwait.” Jack grabbed a brush at random off the table and quickly painted an incredibly sloppy pigeon on a nearby paper towel—it was more of a collection of circles and triangles in a vaguely pigeon shaped pile—and aimed the camera at it. “There, now come back?”

Les snorted. “What is that?”

“Oh my god, _ stop _,” Davey laughed. “You’re too cute. I can’t take it.

Jack grinned. “Thank god.”

“Is this some kind of secret code or something?” Les asked, frowning at Davey.

“Nah, just a shitty pigeon,” Jack chuckled.

“When we first met,” Davey explained, “I told him I would go to dinner with him in exchange for a drawing of a pigeon.”

Les made a face. “Oh, gross—you’re cute.”

Jack laughed again, and Davey smiled, and god was that smile worth anything to Jack.

“Nah,” Jack said. “_ He’s _ cute; I’m just here to draw pigeons.”

Les made another face. “Ewww.”

Davey rolled his eyes again. Jack got the feeling he did that a lot, around his little brother. He firmly ignored the small stab of that all too familiar family envy and spoke up again to distract himself. “You’d think I’d be better at the whole pigeons thing by now.”

“When we get home,” Davey said to Les, “I’ll show you the one he drew me. It’s incredible.”

Jack groaned. “It’s _ okay _.”

“It’s incredible,” Davey repeated firmly, and Jack huffed.

“Take it easy, it’s a bunch of feathers.”

“It looks like a picture.”

“A picture of an okay drawing,” Jack corrected, nodding.

Davey huffed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Jack teased, tossing him an over the top wink.

“No, I love _ you _, and that’s why I put up with it.”

“And thank god for that.”

Les pretended to gag, and Davey shoved him out of the frame. “Hey, have you started the new job, yet?”

Jack shook his head. “Na—first day is tomorrow.”

“Exciting.”

He shrugged. “I guess. It’s probably gonna be a lot of scaring away homeless people and folks tryin’ to steal shit, but the pay isn’t too bad, considering hours and location.”

“Well, I hope it works out and you like it. Really,” Davey said, oh so sincerely, and Jack couldn’t help but smile. Davey was always so supportive, no matter how shitty the situation. How did he do it? How did he not see how incredible he was? “Let me know how it goes, okay? Les and I had better get back to our game, if we’re gonna beat the rain.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, yeah, for sure. It was nice meeting you, Les.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Jack!” Les responded loudly, popping back up in the frame.

Jack chuckled, tossing another smile to Davey just before the call ended. He set his phone down on the table for a second. Well shit, where did that come from? After a second, he picked it up again to send Davey a quick text. “_ Are you okay? _”

“_ Yes, I’m okay. Hadn’t planned on coming out to my brother today, but I’m okay _.”

“_ what happened? Do you want to talk about it? _”

There was a long pause, and Jack hoped it was because Davey was distracted, not upset. A few minutes later, a reply came in. “_ Later _.”

* * *

For Davey, ‘later’ was spent on his bed, staring at the ceiling, with his phone haphazardly leaned against one ear, speaking in hushed tones in case one of his parents decided to come upstairs for some reason. “I think the only way you could have been a bigger hit with my brother is if I hadn’t been lying to him about you this whole time.”

Jack chuckled wanly. “Well, I’m glad he liked me.”

Davey took a deep breath in and out. Just thinking about it was making him anxious all over again. “I fucked up the pronouns,” he explained. “I just— I wasn’t thinking.”

“Mm.” Jack probably nodded. “Right. How did he take it? The gay thing, not the lying bit.”

“He says he doesn’t care. He sure is pissed about the lying, though.”

Another wane chuckle. “I mean, that’s better, I guess? You can fix trust, y’ can’t fix gay.”

“I guess that’s true...” Davey trailed off into silence. He had never broken Les’ trust like this, before. _ Could _ he fix it?

“People lie all the time; y’just gotta work back from it.” It was like Jack could see right through him, and he wasn’t even there. “‘Sides, this wasn’t a harmful lie. It’s your business, and you weren’t ready to share. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Except I tell Sarah and Les everything,” Davey lamented. “My business _ is _ their business.”

Jack hummed in disagreement. “Just cause you usually tell someone what’s goin’ on with you don’t make it their right to know.”

“Maybe not,” Davey conceded.

“Don’ get me wrong—it’s good to have people you trust and everything. I’m just sayin’ it’s not something you’re, like, bound to or whatever.”

“But—” _ they’re family _ is what Davey almost said. Luckily, he realized how that might sound to Jack and caught himself before it was too late.

“I’m not sayin’ don’t tell ‘em anything, I just mean you don’t _ gotta _.”

“I know,” Davey sighed. He picked at a loose thread on his quilt and frowned. “I still haven’t told my parents. Les swore he wouldn’t tell.”

“When d’you think you’re gonna want to?” Jack asked. He still sounded light and casual and a tiny bit distracted—the way he always did when he was painting.

Davey shrugged to himself. “I’ll probably just wait until I slip up again and deal with the fallout.” He was only halfway joking.

Jack was quiet for just a beat too long before he replied, the lightness sounding a bit more forced this time—so little that Davey almost certainly wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t know Jack as well as he did. “I mean, that way’s seemed to work pretty well so far.”

Davey sighed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair.”

“Hey, c’mon. Like I says, ‘s your business. Y’ don’t gotta share if y’ don’t want.” Over the past few months, Davey had begun to notice that the more passionate or upset Jack was, the more his grammar and diction suffered. It was oddly charming.

“You know I love you, right?” Davey asked.

There was a quiet chuckle, and Davey could practically hear that tiny, twisted, barely there smile that only ever showed up for him. “Yeah.”

“This has nothing to do with you. I swear on my life.”

“I know, Davey. I trust’cha.”

Davey smiled too. “Honestly, what would I do without you?”

“Well, you’d definitely have less pigeon focused art,” Jack snickered.

“Which would be a travesty.”

“Oh yeah, I’m planning to start a petition to redo The Statue of Liberty n’ make her a pigeon.”

“_ Please _ draw that!”

He chuckled. “Whatever you want, Davey.”

Davey took a breath and relaxed. He hadn’t realized how tense he still was, but talking to Jack helped. Jack knew everything about him, had seen him at his very worst, and stuck around. Davey didn’t have to hide anything or be someone he wasn’t.

“Are you okay, though?” Jack asked. “I know this wasn’t really in the plan.”

Davey let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Jack, when in the time you’ve known me has anything gone according to plan?”

“Well, hitting on you in the dining hall worked pretty well,” Jack teased.

Davey rolled his eyes. “_ My _ plan, doofus.”

“How ‘bout the pigeon thing?”

“God, fine!” Davey laughed. “In the time you’ve known me, exactly one thing has gone according to plan.”

“See? We’re fine.” It sounded like Jack was smiling.

“We’re fine,” Davey agreed.

“So when can I see you?” Jack asked.

Davey laughed again. “Well, let’s see... It’s been Summer for about a week and a half—”

“Shut up, I miss you.”

“I know. I miss you, too. I’ll figure it out, okay?” Davey promised.

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Davey.”

Jack was right. It had already been a long summer.


	64. A Short Boi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack starts his new job, and Davey spends some quality time with his twin.

Jack’s new job was pretty convenient, being right in the nearest subway station. Of course, Jack rarely took the subway, but it was within easy walking distance of the apartment. He got there at eight a.m. on Wednesday, ready for what was likely to be pretty rudimentary training. As it turned out, it wasn’t even that much.

“Just keep people from stealing shit, and sell as much as you can. You’re on commission,” explained his boss, a loud man named Weisel who spoke with a thick New York accent.

Jack nodded. “Yeh, I can do that.”

And with that, Weisel was gone, and Jack was on his own.

Cool.

He looked around the small space that was somehow like a kiosk and a shop at the same time—like those little stores in airports that sell basically everything and also nothing. With a slight sigh, steeling himself for what was bound to be a rather anxious and confusing day, Jack headed behind the counter to familiarize himself with the computer and the register. Weisel has given him a basic run through of how to work everything before running off, but Jack had always been better at hands-on learning. He figured the best way to practice would be to sell something to himself, so he picked up the cheapest thing—a copy of the New York World—and rang it up.

Welp. That was pretty straightforward and simple.

Now what?

He looked absently around the shop again. This was going to be a pretty boring job. Unless...

With a bit of a smile, Jack grabbed a small armful of papers and magazines, and took a few steps out of the store and onto the edge of the stream of traffic.

* * *

“Yeah, it’s boring as shit, but I think I found a workaround.”

Crutchie looked across the table at him expectantly, and Jack took another bite of spaghetti before continuing.

“I can, like, hawk it—the magazines and papers and stuff—and then if I get folks' attention, it’s easier to get them to buy the snacks and shit, too.”

“Oh, I bet you’re good at that.” Crutchie grinned.

“Well yeah, I’m charming as fuck,” Jack scoffed through a mouthful of pasta.

“So you like it?”

He shrugged. “I’s not bad.”

“Good.” Crutchie poked at the meatball on top of his spaghetti with his fork. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for other apartments, you know, just in case...”

“We’ll be fine.” Jack assured him, although he actually had no idea. “Weasel’s got plenty of hours for me—”

“ _ Weasel? _ ”

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Weisel, whatever. Anyway, he’s got plenty a’ hours for me, and it’s commission so ‘s long as I work good, we won’t be sleepin’ on the street.”

“Well, that’s good,” Crutchie sighed, “because the ‘cheap apartment in Manhattan’ market sucks right now.”

Jack chuckled. “Doesn’t it always?”

“I suppose so.” Crutchie smiled. “But hey, we always come out on top, right?”

Jack matched his smile. “Yeah, things’ve worked out so far.”

* * *

Davey’s eyes shot open, and for a moment, he just stared, wide-eyed, into the dark of his room. The only sound breaking the silence was his own breathing, a little rapid for coming out of sleep. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It was just past midnight. He hadn’t even been asleep that long. Jack had called around ten to tell him about his first day of work at the newsstand, and naturally, they had talked for a while.

With a slow exhale, he sat up and kicked his legs over the edge of his bed. His nightmare had left him restless, and he was thirsty, so he figured a walk downstairs would solve both his problems. He stepped out into the hallway, opening and closing his door as quietly as he could. He was mildly surprised to see there was a light on downstairs, already. As he made his way down, he saw Sarah on the couch with a book, and he knew immediately why she was there.

“We did it again, huh?” he asked once it was clear she had noticed his presence. He didn’t want to startle her.

She looked over at him. “House was on fire and we couldn’t get Les out. Yours?”

“Some kinda ghost or something kept grabbing me. I couldn’t see it, and I kept trying to call for help and couldn’t.”

She cringed sympathetically. “Gross.”

“Better than Les in a fire.” Davey made his way into the room and sat on the opposite end of the couch by Sarah.

“I guess.” She set her book down on the coffee table and settled back into her corner of the couch.

Davey let out a tired sigh, leaning his head to the side, against the back of the couch. He and Sarah had always had this weird tendency to have nightmares at the same time, and Davey had never been able to decide if it was convenient or inconvenient. They sat quietly for a moment, just taking comfort in each other’s presence. After a bit, Sarah lightly kicked at Davey’s leg, not quite making contact.

“How’s Jack?”

Davey couldn’t help but smile. “He’s doing well. He started a new job at a newsstand, selling magazines and newspapers and whatnot.”

She nodded, smiling a bit. “Bet he’s good at that.”

“Apparently, he got bored and started hawking headlines like a newsboy of the 1800s,” Davey chuckled.

She properly laughed at this—quietly, so as not to wake anyone. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“He’s really something,” Davey said wistfully, not caring about looking like a lovesick idiot in front of Sarah.

“How are you doing with the whole,” she twirled her hand at the ceiling, as if gesturing to the family sleeping above them, “not telling anyone?”

Davey laughed. “Fantastic. I’ve only irreparably damaged my relationship with  _ one _ of my immediate family members, so far!”

She frowned. “What—Les?”

“Yeah, Les.” Davey leaned his head back against the arm of the couch and kicked his legs out towards Sarah. “At least, that’s the way he tells it.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “He’s a drama queen. He’s fine.”

“I know.” Davey waved dismissively. “Remember when I promised to take him to the movies and had to send him with you because I started running a fever?”

She chuckled. “And he swore he’d write you out of his will.”

Ten-year-old Les, after a presentation on the dangers of secondhand smoking at his elementary school, had drafted a will—in pencil, so it could still be changed, just in case.

“Last I checked, I still get his DS when he dies.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he ever got around to changing it.”

Davey reached out for Sarah’s book, grabbing at the air with his hand—a mannerism he had almost certainly picked up from Jack. “What are you reading?”

She picked it up to show him the title. “Just some alternate timeline historical fiction bullshit, it’s not that interesting.”

“Why are you reading it, then?”

“One of my hall-mates lent it to me.”

Davey hummed in acknowledgment, then closed his eyes and let his head loll to the side. Growing up, when he and Sarah had nightmares, they would pile in one bed and talk until the sun came up or they fell back asleep. Some things never change, he supposed.

“You don’t talk much about your friends,” he prompted.

“There’s nothing much to talk about,” she answered around a yawn, which, of course, made Davey yawn as well.

Sarah scooted a bit further down in her corner of the couch and sleepily launched into a story about some board game night she and her friends had a few months ago, but Davey wasn’t really listening—not for lack of trying, he was just very tired. Slowly, Sarah trailed off, or maybe Davey fell asleep. He really wasn’t sure. The next thing he knew, he was waking up to the morning sun shining in through the window, a blanket laid carefully over him and Sarah, and the smell of breakfast in the kitchen. He smiled softly, shifting to get more comfortable. As much as he missed Jack and his friends in Manhattan, no matter what happened or how much he changed, this was home.


	65. Shenannygans Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack makes a discovery, Davey makes a decision, and Jack has a realization.

Jack quickly fell into a routine. On Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, he would wake up in the morning and head down to the newsstand, where he had quickly managed to gain a few regulars with his antics—mostly old, white men who wore checkered pants and suspenders and still read the newspaper every day. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he would go straight from there to his evening shift at the auto shop. He would get home, eat dinner with Crutchie, call Davey, and paint a little before bed. Saturday and Sunday, of course, were spent with the Larkin kids, and sometimes Medda insisted he stay for dinner on Sunday evenings, much to Mei’s delight and Jackson’s chagrin. As time went on, he began to find more things to do around the house. He liked working with the kids, of course, but he always felt like it was a bit too easy to be proper work. Medda paid him well, and he wanted to make sure he was earning that pay.

One Saturday, having finished a load of laundry, Jack headed upstairs to put it away. He continued to be awed and slightly appalled by the fact that Catalina’s wardrobe was at least triple the size of his own, and naturally of a much finer quality. God, what fabric was her yellow onesie? What Jack wouldn’t give to have pajamas that soft. He put away her clothes, and Mei’s, then moved on to Jackson’s room. Jackson’s wardrobe was much more manageable—mostly shorts and T-shirts and sweats. The challenge here was figuring out where he kept everything. While Medda organized the girls’ clothes nice and logically, Jackson’s drawers were the definition of organized chaos, and Jack got the feeling he would be in for some verbal abuse if he got it wrong. Despite his efforts, Jack couldn’t seem to find where Jackson kept his jeans, and he wasn’t sure if that was because they were all in the hamper or if there was some secret drawer somewhere. With a sigh, he tossed them to the side and opened the middle drawer, which contained socks and T-shirts for some reason, and the T-shirts were under the socks. “Doesn’t make any dang sense,” Jack grumbled to himself, shoving the socks aside so he could put away the T-shirts in the basket.

His hand hit something sharp, like a pin, and he jerked it back. “Ow. What...?” Frowning, he carefully reached back into the drawer, expecting to find a thumbtack or something. In fact, it was a button, like kind you would pin into a lanyard or suspenders. He huffed, displeased at having been stabbed, and clicked the pin shut before absently glancing at the front in bored curiosity. It was a Pokéball, but the usually red top half was rainbow striped.

Before he had any time to process that, he heard, “What are you doing!?” and the button was snatched out of his hand by a furious nine-year-old.

Jack glanced at him, carefully unconcerned, before turning to grab a folded shirt from the pile in the basket. “Puttin’ away your laundry,” he answered. “I got stabbed.”

“ _ Go away _ ,” Jackson insisted, reaching into his drawer to bury the button beneath his socks, again.

Jack held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, then you gotta put away your own laundry.” He shot him a smile, despite how heavily Jackson was glaring at him. “I didn’t know you liked Pokémon.”

Jackson snarled and slammed the door shut. “I said ‘go away’!”

“Relax, man, I’m not gonna say anything,” Jack assured him.

“You don’t know  _ anything! _ ” Jackson whirled around on him, and Jack was a little startled to see the wetness around his eyes.

“Whoa, hey.” He sighed. “Look, I know you hate me, that’s fine, but you don’t need to be worried about whatever it is you’re worried about.”

Jackson sniffled and looked askance, brushing his nose with the back of his hand.

“I’ll get outta your hair,” Jack said gently, but he paused at the door. “If you ever want to talk about...anything...” He shrugged. “I’m gay, too. You’re not gonna get any shit from me.”

Jackson sniffled again, looking sideways up at Jack. “Are you gonna tell Mom?”

“Wh— No. Why would I?”

He shrugged, looking actually small for once.

Jack shook his head. “It’s none a’ my business to be comin’ out for anyone else.”

“How did you do it?” Jackson asked.

“What? Come out?”

He nodded.

Jack shrugged. “I sorta didn’t.”

“How come?”

Oof, here we go.

“There wasn’t really anyone to come out to. My brother more or less knew all along, or didn’t care, or something, and uh...” Jack rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “He’s all I got.”

“You don’t have parents?”

“Nope.”

“Who did you live with?”

Yikes. “I was in the foster system for a bit...”

He could practically hear the gears turning in Jackson’s head, and if he wasn’t so desperate to connect with this kid, he probably would have run for it. “You were adopted?”

Jack pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head.

“Oh.” Jackson looked away again.

Sharing his background was never a good time, but Jack was pretty sure this was the most uncomfortable it had ever been. Luckily, before the moment could wear on, Mei started shrieking, “Fwaaanciiis!”

He cleared his throat, clapping a hand on the doorframe. “Right, well...lemme know if you wanna talk or whatever.” And he quickly headed down the hallway.

* * *

“So really,” Les argued, “it’s a  _ Fifth _ of July party.”

“It’s a Fourth of July party that’s happening on the fifth so your bubbe can keep Shabbat and your father and I can keep our sanity,” his mother explained over the clanking of dishes as she loaded the washer.

Davey stepped in. “Here, Mom, let me help you with that.”

“Thank you David.” She continued talking to Les. “Is there anyone you want to invite? Friends from school or anything?”

Les waved the question off. “Nah, I’m stuck with those losers all year.”

She chuckled. “Just thought I’d offer. It’s only fair for you to get to bring someone, if David is bringing his girlfriend.”

“Yeah, David!” Les grinned devilishly. “You’d better get on that invitation.”

Davey glared daggers at him. “About that, Mom—Kelly’s not Jewish, and I’m a little worried Bubbe’s gonna...you know...”

Mrs. Jacobs nodded, acknowledging his concern. “I think it’ll be alright. She has to get used to it, someday.”

“Should probably warm her ahead of time, though,” Les suggested. “Wouldn’t want there to be any surprises.”

Davey glared at him again. “Thanks, Les.”

“Probably a good idea,” Mrs. Jacobs agreed, nodding again.

Davey cringed. Of course, she would say that. “I don’t even know if Kelly can come, yet...” he grumbled.

“Did you ask?”

“I...Well...”

“Well, you should talk about it soon; the party is only three weeks away. She’s welcome to stay in Sarah’s room.”

Davey got the feeling Jack would not, in fact, be welcome to stay in Sarah’s room. “Right. I’ll call her later tonight and ask.”

* * *

Just as Jack was sitting down on the couch to turn on an episode of Black Mirror, his phone rang. He smiled when he saw Davey’s name and answered quickly. “Hey, Davey.”

“Hey, Jack. Um...how would you feel about coming to my mom’s Fifth of July party?”

Jack blinked, surprised. “I—… Yeah that’d be cool.” He ran a hand through his hair, rather confused.

“Good,” Davey sighed, “great, awesome.”

“Uh...would— Like, as friends, or...?” It felt like a stupid thing to ask your boyfriend of almost four months, but with this situation, there wasn’t much solid ground.

Davey hesitated before answering. “No, as...us.”

“Buuut I’m a guy,” Jack replied stupidly.

“Really? I didn’t know.”

He laughed. “No, shut up. Did you talk to your family, then?”

Davey hesitated again. “Well, no...”

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Not yet, I mean,” Davey clarified quickly. “Obviously, they’re going to find out, if you come to the party.”

“Well yeah, probably. I mean, if we’re not even gonna  _ try _ to find a dress my size...”

Davey laughed quietly, but it didn’t mask his nervousness.

“Hey,” Jack spoke gently, wishing Davey was there so he could take his hand. “We’re gonna be fine.”

“I know.”

Jack thought about Jackson’s reaction to him finding that button, along with Davey’s reluctance to come out to his family. Jack never had anyone to come out to, so maybe he just didn’t understand.

A sudden realization struck, and Jack slammed his hand down onto the arm of the couch. “ _ Shit _ , it’s ‘cause he has a crush on you!”

Davey stammered for a moment. “What?”

“Ehhh, he made me promise not to tell, but you’re, like, ninety-seven percent of my brain, anyway. Shit ain’t real if you don’t know about it.”

“Jack, what are you—“

“So I was putting away the kids' laundry, right? An’ I accidentally found a little gay Pokémon pin in Jackson’s drawer—like a Pokéball, but rainbow ‘stead of red. Anyway, he came in and freaked out before I even really knew what I was looking at, made me promise not to tell Medda, asked how I came out to my family, all a’ that. It makes so much fucking sense. That’s why he’s so nice to you, and it’s yet another reason for him to hate me!”

Davey was silent for a long moment, then burst out laughing.

Jack smiled, just like he always did when Davey laughed—he just couldn’t help it.

“Whaaat?”

“Just— Of course he does,” Davey managed to squeak out. “Of course he has a crush on me; he’s  _ you! _ ”

Jack sputtered indignantly. “He is  _ not! _ ”

“He  _ is too! _ ” Davey insisted. “What’s his favorite color?”

“Wh— I don’t know! Why would I know that?”

“I bet it’s blue.”

“No way,” Jack grumbled.

Davey started into another round of laughter, clearly delighted by this discovery, and Jack groaned.

“You’re the worst.”

“Aw, and here I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” Jack replied, and it came out much softer and gentler than he had expected. It occurred to him then—hitting him all at once, like an impossible wall of water—that Davey was...acting like Davey again.

_ Really _ like Davey again.

Like the Davey he met and fell in love with, only four short months ago, that somehow seemed like forever.

He was light and clever and sweet and funny again.  _ Happy _ again. It felt so easy and right that Jack nearly started to cry.

“Good,” Davey replied. “It would really suck if you didn’t, because I’m kind of obsessed with you, and I’m about to start a family scandal bigger than my uncle Amos marrying a Protestant for you.”

Of course, now Jack burst into laughter instead of tears.

“If that’s not love, I don’t know what is,” Davey chuckled.

For a second, Jack was quiet, trying to get his mouth to do anything other than smile. “You know I’m in love with you, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, I mean  _ really _ in love with you.”

“I know, Jack,” Davey insisted. “I don’t mind you telling me, but really, I know. You make me feel loved.”

Still smiling, Jack shook his head. “Not enough. I wish I could do more.”

“What about you?” Davey asked. “You—... Do you know I’m in love with you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Jack hoped Davey could hear his smile in his voice.

“You  _ think _ so?” Davey fired back, and Jack could definitely hear the smile in  _ his _ voice.

“I mean, y’know, I could maybe use a bit more convincing.”

“God, you are such an ass!”

Jack laughed again. “Yeah, but you love me.”

“So you  _ do  _ know it!”

“Well, I can’t imagine you’d’a let me hang onto you this long if you didn’t.”

Before Davey could respond, Jack heard another, indistinct voice in the background, and Davey sighed. “I have to go, love; Les wants me.”

“Okay. Call me whenever, and we can figure out a plan for the party,” Jack offered, partly because that was a good idea, and partly because it was an excuse to talk again. He was always disappointed when Davey had to go.

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you too, Davey.”

The call ended. Jack let his phone flop onto the couch next to him and stared blindly into the middle distance for a moment, lost in thought. He was excited to finally be meeting Davey’s family, but of course he was nervous, too. It had been a good couple of years since the last time he’d tried to integrate into a family—longer since it had actually been important to him to succeed—but this time would be very, very different.

His only other relationship that had been serious enough for him to meet their family was with Katherine, but she only had her father, and he’d hated Jack the instant they met, so that had hardly felt like it counted. Davey, on the other hand, had a full, proper, close family, and if they didn’t like Jack...if Davey had to choose...well, who could say who he would choose? Jack would be damned if he was what got between someone and their loving family, but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine a thing in the world that could keep him away from Davey Jacobs.


	66. Execute Chapter 66

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A.K.A. Shenannygans Chapter Six.

On Sunday, Chris spent the day at a friend’s house, so it was just Jack and the girls. Jackson was there, technically, but he was avoiding Jack. Granted, that wasn’t particularly unusual, it just seemed even more pointed than before. Well, two steps forward, one step back...or maybe one step forward, two steps back, and then a half-step forward again.

For twenty minutes, Jack had been trying to read a book to Mei—some ‘I Spy’ bugs and garden thing—and every other page she insisted on turning back to the page with the ladybug. It was very slow going, but just when he thought this day wasn’t going to be exciting at all, Jackson marched into the room and planted his defiant little self right in front of them.

“I want you to help me.”

Jack blinked at him in slight surprise. “Wiiith...?”

He glanced at Mei, then back at Jack. “The thing.”

Jack blinked again, not getting it.

“You know,” Jackson glared at him, “that I like Pokémon.”

Jack made a valiant effort not to laugh and mostly succeeded. They had an accidental secret code, and he loved it.

“Right, yeah, of course.”

He looked down at Mei. “I’m gonna go help your brother catch Pokémon. Think you can do this by yourself for a while?”

Mei pouted, but didn’t fuss when Jack moved her off his lap. Without another word, Jackson went back the way he came, and Jack followed him up the stairs to his room.

“So what can I do for ya, Ash Ketchum?”

Jackson closed and locked the door behind them, and suddenly, Jack felt threatened by a nine-year-old for the first time since he was...well...nine.

“I wanna tell my mom,” Jackson said, staring at the floor.

“Oh, whoa.” Jack hadn’t been expecting that so soon. “Hey, that’s great.”

Jackson groaned, “No, I don’t know how!”

“Gotcha.” Jack nodded “Well, there’s definitely a lot of options. D’you wanna do some big show, or just be chill about it?”

Jackson shrugged, crossing to sit on the edge of his bed. “I just don’t wanna make it weird...”

Jack nodded again. “Right.”

“Will you...” Jackson hesitated. His voice had gone very soft. “Will you do it with me?”

Jack tried to fight it, in case for some reason Jackson got upset, but he couldn’t keep himself from smiling. “For sure, if you want me to.”

Jackson nodded minutely, clearly still uncomfortable, but they  _ were _ in the middle of a breakthrough. That’s what this was, right? A breakthrough?

“Do you want to do it some fun way, or just sit down and talk with her?” Jack asked.

“There’s a fun way?”

He waved dismissively, leaning against the wall. “Some people do, like, rainbow cakes or confetti cannons or whatever.”

Jackson pursed his lips, contemplating this for a moment. Then, he concluded, “I want to make a cake.”

Jack cringed. “I’ve never made a cake...”

“What do you mean!?” Jackson folded his arms across his chest. “Aren’t you, like, thirty?”

“What—I’m twenty three!” Jack sputtered.

“Same difference.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right. I’m an old man; clearly I should be a cake master.”

Jackson huffed dejectedly. “Well, fine. What else can we do?”

“Hang on, I got an idea...” Jack pulled out his phone and shot a text to Davey. “ _ Help, Jackson wants to make a coming out cake _ ”

“ _ Oh, great, the kid’s braver than me _ ,” Davey replied. “ _ What do you need help with? _ ”

“ _ Cake _ ”

* * *

“Start with it on the lowest setting,” Davey, on FaceTime, instructed, “then slowly raise the speed as the dry stuff gets mixed in. Otherwise, you’ll— No, I said the  _ lowest _ set—  _ God! _ You know what? You’re the artist. You deal with the food coloring and let the kid work the mixer.”

Jackson snickered, and Jack—now mildly dusted with flour—sputtered indignantly. “I only clicked it over one! One away from off, that should be the lowest!”

“Notice how the numbers go from right to left.” Jackson pointed at the speed indicator on the mixer, where the numbers did indeed go from right to left, and Jack rolled his eyes.

“Doesn’t make sense to go from zero to hyper-speed.”

“See?” Davey gestured vaguely towards Jackson through the screen. “He already knows how to work it.”

“It’s  _ his _ kitchen mixer! I’m new here!”

“Excuses, excuses,” Jackson tutted, pushing Jack out of the way.

Jack squawked indignantly, but went to start messing with food coloring, anyway. He made it a couple steps before he realized the food coloring was not where he had left it. “‘Ey, Jack? Did’ju move the food coloring?”

Jackson shook his head and shrugged.

“Oh boy.” Jack looked around, not seeing Mei in the kitchen, but that didn’t mean anything. In his time with the Larkin children, Jack had quickly learned the golden rule—if you can’t find it, Mei has it.

He walked into the living room, and sure enough, there was Catalina in her swing and Mei with the box of food coloring. Fortunately, there didn’t appear to be any on the carpet. Unfortunately, there was a small but noticeable amount of green on Mei’s denim dress, and she was finger painting on Catalina’s face with it.

Mei turned when she heard Jack enter and proudly announced, “Issa flowuh!”

It was definitely a penis, but obviously she didn’t know that.

“Oh, wow!” Jack tried very hard to sound enthusiastic rather than dismayed, and he mostly succeeded. “That’s really good, Mei, but how about you do your drawing with paper and crayons? Then we can hang it up and make an art gallery—I don’t think we’re allowed to hang your sister on the wall and charge admission.”

“Okay!” Mei bounced happily, dropping the food coloring onto the tray on the front of Catalina’s swing and toddling off towards the office, where her art supplies lived.

Jack quickly returned the food coloring to the kitchen and grabbed a clean dish towel, wetting it at the kitchen sink with warm water. “Mei strikes again,” he explained to Jackson and Davey—he had left his phone, and therefore Davey, propped up against a Pop-Tarts box on the counter—“I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Jackson replied, never shifting his focus from Davey and the cake batter.

Jack smiled in that smug way one does when seeing someone interact with their secret crush. Confusingly, he felt a tiny stab of jealousy, but he was more amused by it than anything else. Jackson was  _ nine _ , and had a crush on  _ Jack’s boyfriend _ . There was nothing to be jealous about there.

He glanced at the now wet towel and decided to change his approach—probably better to bring the baby into the kitchen, anyway, rather than leave her unobserved in the living room. He left the towel on the counter and went to fetch her. She gurgled happily as he lifted her onto his hip, and Jack smiled, carrying her back into the kitchen and setting her down on the counter by the sink to begin gently wiping away the dye on her face. The unfortunate thing about dye is, well, it’s dye, so it didn’t exactly wipe away.

He was concentrating so hard that he didn’t hear Davey and Jackson’s idle conversation about mixing wet ingredients die down until Davey said, “Um...Jacky?”

“Hm?” Jack glanced briefly over his shoulder.

“Is there a...” Davey hesitated, pressing his lips together. “What’s on the baby’s face?”

“Mei is a very talented, up and coming, modern artist,” Jack replied, voice tight from attempting to hold down his laughter. “However, we’re trying to discourage the use of her sister as a canvas.”

Davey nodded, his brow still creased in concern. “Oh.”

“Her floral focus is, uh...let’s say ‘not quite accurate’.”

“We know it looks like dicks,” Jackson said helpfully, which entirely popped Jack’s fragile composure, and he burst into laughter. Catalina grinned and laughed with him.

“Oh god, please don’t say ‘dicks’,” Jack begged her through his laughter, and now Jackson laughed too.

“She doesn’t talk, yet.”

“Knowing my luck, she will, and she’ll say ‘dicks’.”

Davey finally, despite great efforts to the contrary, broke down laughing. “Can we  _ please _ stop talking about dicks?”

“Why?” Jackson asked, turning back to the screen. “We’re all gay.”

“Catalina might not be! If she’s too young to talk, she’s too young for sexuality,” Jack argued.

“So she doesn’t count!”

“Alright, alright, you two,” Davey chuckled, “if you want this cake done today, you’re gonna have to get to work.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get back on the frosting,” Jack conceded.

“Now, the question is,” Davey began, “do you want the cake itself to be rainbow, or just the frosting? If you have multiple pans of the same size, you can make rainbow stripes. Otherwise, you can do a rainbow swirl.”

“We only have two cake pans,” Jackson said.

“Stripes would be hard, then. Of course, you can always leave the cake yellow and just have rainbow frosting.”

Jackson nodded. “Yeah, let’s just do the frosting.”

“Well, that makes life easier. Now, all you’ve gotta do is—”

Davey was cut off by Mei shouting, “Fwancis, lookie!” as she darted back into the room, where she proudly presented Jack with a drawing of a field of dicks.

Jack couldn’t help but laugh this time. “Oh, it’s so pretty, Mei!”

She walked over to Jack and pushed the picture against his legs. “Fow you.”

“Wow, thank you,” he enthused, taking the picture and turning it towards himself to look at it, fighting another laugh.

Mei immediately ran back into the other room, and Jack set her drawing down so he could pick Catalina up off the counter. By the time he reached the other room, Mei was on her stomach on the floor, crayon in hand and another work in progress.

“This your flower period?” Jack asked, glancing at the beginnings of what was likely to be another bountiful harvest of dicks.

She didn’t respond, far too engrossed in her art to deal with the likes of Jacob Francis Kelly. He chuckled, heading over to pick up the baby swing before turning back to the kitchen. He expected Catalina and Mei would’ve been fine in the living room, but he didn’t want to risk it. When he got back, Jackson was carefully pouring the batter into a baking pan.

Jack set the swing up off to one side and settled Catalina in before heading back to the counter to help. “Okay, what’s next?”

“If the oven is finished preheating, you can go ahead and put the cake in,” Davey said. “Then, start on the frosting. Do you have store-bought frosting, or are you making your own?”

Jackson held the tub of Betty Crocker cream cheese frosting up where Davey could see.

“Perfect.” Davey nodded. “It will be easier to stir the food coloring in if you heat it up for a few seconds in the microwave. How many colors do you have?”

“The pack only has four,” Jackson said, sounding disappointed.

“Well, you can mix them, right? Jacky, that’s more your area...”

“Yeah, we should be able to get an okay variety. Are we aiming for just basic rainbow?” Jack asked, directed at Jackson, who shrugged.

“I guess.”

Jack nodded. “Okay, cool.” He grabbed seven bowls out of the cupboard and divided the icing between them before beginning to mix colors. A standard package of food coloring wasn’t the ideal palette to work from, but it was doable.

“Hey, Jackson,” Davey began with a teasing lilt to his voice that caught Jack’s attention. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue,” the kid responded absently.

Jack shot a glare over his shoulder, towards his phone. “I can make us an extra bowl of another shade of blue, to write with.”

“What a great idea, babe!” Davey enthused, grinning smugly.

Jack scowled. “I’m a fountain of wisdom.”

Jackson started to pick up the baking pan, but Davey stopped him. “Hey, why don’t you let older Jack do that?”

Jack was wildly surprised and mildly irritated when Jackson didn’t protest, but he did shoot a frown at Jack, so the world wasn’t  _ entirely _ upside down.

Jack took the pan over to the oven and carefully slid it inside. “How long do I set the timer?” he asked.

“Thirty minutes.”

Jack punched the numbers in and nodded. “Okay, we’re set.”

Mei then returned with two more drawings. She handed one to Jackson, and held one out towards the counter, where Jack’s phone was propped up with Davey on FaceTime.

Jack very nearly died from the cuteness. “Davey, look—she made one for you, too.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Davey looked like he was melting. “Thank you, Mei.”

She yelled something indiscernible but enthusiastic and ran out of the room again.

“Guess you have to come visit so you can get your picture,” Jack teased.

“Or you can bring it to the Fifth of July party,” Davey shot back.

“I meant visit  _ Mei _ , not  _ me _ .”

“What about me!?” Jackson protested.

Jack rolled his eyes heavily. “Yeah, you too, I guess.”

Davey smiled, shooting Jack a ‘be nice’ look. Jack rolled his eyes again, but with a smile this time.

“Start mixing, slacker,” Jackson snapped, and Davey laughed.

“Yeah,  _ slacker _ , get to work.”

Jack gasped in faux insult. “ _ Slacker? _ I just put the cake in!”

Davey raised an eyebrow. “Do you want a frostingless cake?”

“Well, it’s not my cake, so it don’t matter what I want.”

“ _ I _ don’t want a frostingless cake,” Jackson said, taking the bowl of blue to stir for himself.

“Then I guess I’ll keep mixing colors,” Jack said, reaching for the remaining bowls of uncolored frosting. He actually managed to pull together a pretty good rainbow, considering the limited options provided by food coloring, and once the cake was done and had cooled, they set about decorating it. The original plan, which was stripes, turned out to be a lot harder than they thought, so they ended up using a toothpick to make a swirl. It looked pretty cool, if Jack did say so himself. “Man, almost makes me wish  _ I _ had come out.”

“There’s still time,” Davey teased. “Stage an elaborate coming out at the next family dinner night.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “...That’s brilliant,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Francis, we still gotta do the words!” Jackson whined.

“Okay, okay, jeez! I’m on it!” Jack shot back, pulling the extra bowl of blue closer. “What are we writing?”

Jackson blushed, suddenly shy. “I don’t know...”

“‘I like Pokémon’, asterisk, ‘boys’,” Jack suggested, miming writing over the cake.

Jackson sneered at him. “Maybe just ‘I like boys’.”

Jack held his hands up in surrender. “‘S your cake.” He found a sandwich bag in a drawer to use as a makeshift piping bag, per Davey’s instructions, and spooned the frosting inside. He cut the very tip off one corner with the kitchen scissors and began to very carefully pipe the letters on top of the cake. He was an artist, not a baker, and they came out a little lopsided but legible, and just in time.

“She’s home!” Jackson announced as they could hear the garage door opening.

“A’right, a’right, what are we doing?” Jack asked, quickly throwing the mostly empty frosting bag into the trash. “Are we hiding it? Are we just leaving it out? Are we presenting it? What are we doing?”

“I— I— Um...” Jackson stammered in a panic. He looked back towards the garage, then back at Jack, eyes wide. His breathing picked up, and Jack worried he was about to hyperventilate.

“‘Kay whoa, wait, hang on,” Jack said, speaking quickly but calmly. “We’re fine. This is a great plan. How ‘bout you just call her in here and say you got somethin’ to tell her or whatever.”

Jackson nodded frantically, despite looking like he might throw up, so Jack set the cake out on the kitchen island, in perfect view, and cleared away the rest of the bowls and such.

The door opened, and Jackson jumped half a mile. Jack suppressed a chuckle. He wondered what the poor kid was worried about; It was obvious Medda loved him—pretty unlikely she’d have kept him in the first place if she didn’t love him.

“Hi, Mom,” Jackson said meekly, shrinking in on himself as Medda came into the kitchen.

“Hi, honey,” Medda greeted her son with a shining smile, and Jack stepped back to lean against the counter, snatching his phone and flipping the camera so Davey on FaceTime could watch the scene unfold, too.

“What’s this, then?” Medda asked, having caught sight of the cake sitting on the island behind Jackson.

All the blood drained out of Jackson’s face. “I, um...” He sniffled and blinked back tears.

“Oh, sweetie,” Medda cooed, drooping her handbag on the counter and turning her full attention to Jackson.

He wiped at his eyes furiously, shaking like a leaf. “Mom?”

“Yes, Jackson?”

“Are you mad?”

“What?” She sounded genuinely surprised. “Because you like boys? Why, of course not!”

It was like all the tension just drained out of his body, and he let out a relieved little sob.

“Oh, my sweet boy.” Medda pulled Jackson into a hug, practically crushing him against her chest.

Jack, watching from the background, felt a small stab of jealousy amidst his empathetic happiness—the usual. Jackson had been found by a wonderful, loving mother, and Jack was glad he had a family. That had nothing to do with the fact that he never had one himself.

A text buzzed into his phone, and he looked down to find a text from Davey, their FaceTime call having ended. “ _ I feel like I’m intruding. That’s fucking beautiful, and I’m crying. _ ”

Jack smiled and shot back. “ _ Thanks for your help, I’d have probably burnt the house down _ ”

Medda knelt down in front of Jackson and brushed the tears off his cheeks. “Baby, I love you  _ exactly _ the way you are. Don’t let  _ anyone _ make you ashamed, you hear?”

Jackson nodded.

“Who you like and who you don’t is your business, and the only folks that should care about that are you, and whoever it is you like.”

He nodded again, and Medda gave him another hug before she straightened up to look at the cake again. “Did you two make this?” She asked, gesturing between Jack and Jackson.

“David helped,” Jackson told her.

Jack nodded. “I think it turned out pretty well, even though I was involved.”

“Well,” Medda turned back to Jackson, “why don’t you go get your little sister, and we can give it a taste test before dinner.”

Jackson smiled and headed off towards the living room, and Medda turned to Jack. “Thank you so much, baby. That was scary, for him.”

Jack nodded, smiling. “O’course. That’s what I’m here for.”

“You’re here to look after my kids. This is above and beyond.” She pulled Jack into a hug. “I just had a feeling when I met you that you were the one we needed, and now I know I was right.”

Jack smiled, hugging back. “Thanks Medda. That means a lot.”

“Mommy!” Mei came running happily into the room with another drawing and held it up for Medda. Jack cringed as Medda took the phallic flower bed, but she just smiled.

“More flowers, Mei? Very nice.”

Jackson returned after her, looking more relaxed by the second.

“Well,” Jack clapped his hands together. “I should head home.” He shot a smile towards Jackson. “Glad I could help out, today.”

“Well, aren’t you gonna stay and try a piece of this lovely cake you made?” Medda asked incredulously.

“I dunno, am I invited?” Jack asked Jackson.

Medda gave her son a pointed look, and he nodded.

Jack shrugged. “Guess I better stay, then.”

Medda smiled at him. “Of course, baby. You’re always welcome in my house.”


	67. If You Can’t Afford a Real Therapist, Crutchie’s Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has a bit of a meltdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I’ve been dropping the ball on comments. We still read and appreciate every one!

Jack sat bolt upright, the shouting from his dream dying in a strangled gasp as he woke up, hands fisted tightly and one arm automatically cocking back to let fly at whoever it was that had just had their hands on him, but wasn’t there in the real world.

“You okay, Jack?” Crutchie, being the lightest sleeper in the world, was already wide awake, grabbing his cane from beside his bed and standing up to make his way over.

Jack was breathing quick and shallow, eyes darting around the room that was somehow always so unfamiliar in the middle of the night. “I don’t want— Where’s—?” Sentences wouldn’t form any more solidly than his thoughts, scattered by nightmare-sparked adrenaline.

Crutchie stopped a foot or so away from Jack’s bed. “It’s just me, Jack. It’s Crutchie,” he said softly as he laid a careful hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m right here. You’re safe.”

Jack looked at him sharply, recoiling for half a second before recognition settled in, but even so he relaxed only marginally. It had been a dream, just a dream. On a logical and intellectual level he knew that, but fuck it was hard to convince the rest of him to calm down.

Crutchie sat behind him on the bed and wrapped his arms around his chest. “We’re in our apartment in Manhattan, and nothing’s wrong.”

Jack took what was meant to be a steadying breath, but it came in weak and shaky. “Shit.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Crutchie repeated. “Everything is okay. You’re safe.”

Jack got a grip on one of Crutchie’s arms, wrapped around him. “We were on the street again, and some guy was coming after you, so I...” He trailed off, shutting his eyes tightly.

“It’s okay, Jack.”

“I think I killed him. Or at least hurt him real bad. Either way, we were running, and I tried to wait for you but I couldn’t slow down—”

“It’s okay, Jack. Breathe. It wasn’t real.”

He took a slow, shaky breath, still feeling the stinging impact on his hands from where he hadn’t actually hit anyone.

“There you go,” Crutchie said. “It wasn’t real, Jack.”

“Fuck.” It came out as more of an exhale than a word, and Jack pushed the heel of his free hand against one of his closed eyes, trying to press the lingering imagery out of his head.

“Do you want to talk about it, or would you rather I put on a movie or something?” Crutchie asked.

Jack shook his head, indicating rather poorly that he’d prefer a distraction. “Yeah, whatever’s fine.”

Crutchie released his hold on Jack and stood up. “How about Mamma Mia? You can’t be sad or scared watching Mamma Mia.”

Jack nodded, not quite smiling. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Crutchie patted him on the shoulder before disappearing into the living room. Jack got up to follow quickly, grabbing a t-shirt out of the dresser on his way. He was calmer now, the world had registered as ‘real’ and ‘okay’, but he was still rather shaken as he headed over towards the couch.

Crutchie popped the DVD into the player and came back to sit next to Jack, and Jack laced their fingers together, taking comfort in the solid assurance that Crutchie was, in fact, right there, and they were both safe.

After a few minutes of the hit songs of Swedish pop sensation ABBA, Jack still couldn’t shake his unease. “Man, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” he said, and indeed it had been a good chunk of time since their last sleepless night of nightmare aftermath.

Crutchie nodded. “I’m kind of surprised. S’been a rough few months...”

“Well, I did have one a few weeks ago, while you were over at Lauren’s.”

Crutchie looked at him, a mixture of surprise and concern on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me? You could have called—”

“Davey was here,” Jack explained.

“Ah.” Crutchie nodded again. “Good. I’d hate for you to be alone...”

“Yeah…I’m not good at ‘alone’.”

Crutchie squeezed his hand. “You sure you don’t wanna talk?”

He sighed. “Like you said, s’been a rough few months. I think I’m just a bit messed up about it, y’know?”

“You’ve been stressed, between graduation and work and...life.” Crutchie leaned the side of his head against the back of the couch. “You deserve to relax sometimes, Jack. We’re not on the street. You’re not in some shitty foster home.” He laughed breathlessly. “You’ve got a bachelor’s degree in studio art, for god’s sake!”

“We’re also barely scraping by,” Jack said, and he exhaled roughly. “We aren’t on the street now, but we’re one missed rent payment away from it, and my studio art degree ain’t done shit yet to help with that.”

“We’re one missed rent payment away from Race and Albert’s couch,” Crutchie argued, “not the street.”

Jack sighed again. “I guess that’s true. I’m just so fucking tired, Crutchie. Always, always struggling, for everything we got, and we hardly got anything.” He slumped back against the couch. “I want us to be  _ okay _ , I want us to be  _ safe _ . I'm tired of working crazy shifts at shit jobs ‘cause that’s all that’s in walking distance and I can’t afford a bus pass. The whole point of the art degree is to make money off the one thing I’m good at, but I don’t got any time to pursue it, ‘cause I gotta work every waking moment to keep us fed.”

Crutchie leaned in and laid his head on Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll keep looking for cheaper apartments. Maybe we could find another roommate and move into a two-bedroom. It would be cramped, but—”

“I’ve kept us going this far,” Jack protested. “I just gotta find something better than the auto shop and hawking papers.”

Crutchie hummed in acknowledgment. “Don’t forget the nannying, that’s something.”

Jack nodded his head to the side, shrugging. “Yeah, that’s something. Did I tell you Jackson—the one that hates me—had me help him come out to his mom?”

Crutchie tilted his head back up. “You didn’t. That’s super sweet.”

“Yeah, it was pretty cute. He wanted to make a cake, so we FaceTimed Davey and he walked us through it so I didn’t burn the house down.”

“Did you take any pictures?”

Jack shook his head. “Didn’t think to. I actually felt kinda awkward with the whole thing. Like, sure the kid asked me for help, but it wasn’t my thing, y’know?”

Crutchie frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

Jack shrugged again. “I dunno. Like I shouldn’t’a been there. It was a family thing, and I’m not family.”

“Clearly, the kid didn’t see it that way.”

“Oh, he definitely doesn’t think I’m family.” Jack chuckled. “I was just useful cause I’m gay—well, bi, but whatever.”

“But he clearly didn’t mind you being there, if he asked you to help,” Crutchie clarified, “and it was really cool of you to do it.”

“I guess using me to come out is the current fashion of the season. Dave invited me to go upstate for the Fourth of July. He wants me to meet his family.”

Crutchie’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, shit!”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, it sorta came out of nowhere, but I guess he’s done keeping it a secret.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, if he’s actually ready, and wants to.”

“Is he?”

“He says he is.” Jack shrugged.

“I didn’t ask what he  _ says _ .”

Jack huffed, not quite amused. “I dunno, man. He still seems pretty hesitant to me, but I guess I can’t really blame him. I’m pretty damn scared of it, too.”

“What are you scared of?”

“Well, they gotta like me. More than that, they gotta like  _ us _ —me an’ Davey, together.” He let out a fluttery sort of exhale, somewhere between a sigh and a hopeless laugh. “I’ve never made it into a family before. Guess I sorta thought that ship had sailed.”

Crutchie rolled his eyes. “Jack, you and Davey are, like, two halves of a whole. How could they  _ not _ like you two together?”

“It’s just...it’s really important, y’know? Davey’s always talking about them, and how important family is and all that, and after everything that’s happened this semester... How am I supposed to face them, Crutchie?” Jack looked up at him, surprised by the tears suddenly pushing at the backs of his eyes. “How am I supposed to face his family, knowing I let him get hurt?” His voice broke on ‘hurt’, and he bit down hard on his lip, seeking the physical pain as a distraction from the mental.

“What?” Crutchie shook his head. “Jack, what are you— You didn’t  _ let _ anything. You did everything you possibly could.”

“I wasn’t there,” Jack argued. “I couldn’t get to him. Crutchie, he needed me, called my damn name, and I couldn’t get to him.”

“Jack, stop.” Crutchie pulled him into a hug. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Jack pressed his lips together tightly for a moment, trying to will away the tears before he spoke again. “If I could’ve just  _ been _ there—”

“But you couldn’t. He didn’t tell you where he was going. There was nothing you could have done.”

“It’s my fault he didn’t tell me. He should’ve told me, he  _ would’ve _ told me, but we’d had a fight.”

“You’re reaching, Jack,” Crutchie said.

“We were at the park, and Katherine showed up—”

“I know; you told me right after it happened.” Crutchie let go of Jack in favor of taking his hands. “Look, Jack—I’m not a therapist, but I know you, and you want to know what I think?” He continued without waiting for an answer. “I think you want everything to be your fault, ‘cause if it was your fault, you can keep it from happening again.”

For a moment Jack just stared at him uselessly. Crutchie was absolutely right, and Jack had no idea how to respond.

“The world doesn’t work that way, Jack,” Crutchie went on, shaking his head. “There are things you can’t control, people you can’t save, wrongs you can’t make right. You’re gonna drive yourself crazy, thinking the weight of everything rests on  _ your _ shoulders and yours alone.”

“I should be able to take care of what’s mine,” Jack replied quietly, knowing that no amount of desperate, wishful thinking would make that true.

Crutchie hugged him again. “You do a great job.”

“Not good enough,” Jack mumbled, leaning into him gratefully.

“Bullshit. Jack, at eighteen years old, you  _ somehow _ got custody of a sixteen year old kid who’s not blood related to you—I still don’t know how the hell you managed that. You took care of us both on the street. We both got into college.”

“I’m very charming,” Jack grumbled against Crutchie’s shoulder.

“Yeah, sure, but that’s irrelevant.” Crutchie exhaled, somewhere between a huff and a sigh. “You took care of me, Jack.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Anything. You had a choice.” Crutchie adjusted his arms tighter around Jack’s shoulders. “You chose me.”

“‘Course I did.” Jack smiled wanly. “You’re all I ever had.”

“But now...” Crutchie leaned back, leaving his hands on Jack’s shoulders and holding him at arm’s length. “You’ve gotta choose yourself sometimes.”

Jack huffed. “What for? I’m not what I care about.”

“Jack.”

He looked at Crutchie expectantly, but Crutchie just gave him a ‘done with your shit’ look that he was well accustomed to, and he sighed. “I’m an idiot and I need to get a sense of self worth, I know.”

“If you don’t believe me, ask Davey. Ask Racer, Henry, Albert, Elmer, Specs—”

“I know! I know,” Jack interrupted, chuckling. “I majored in studio art, that’s plenty a’ verification that I’m an idiot.”

Crutchie smiled warmly. “ _ Our _ idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jack smiled as well.

“Feeling any better?” Crutchie asked, and Jack nodded.

“You’ve always been the best nightmare fixer.”

“You wanna go back to bed, or finish the movie?”

“I’m gonna stay up for a bit,” Jack answered, “but you go on and knock out if you want to.”

“Mmkay,” Crutchie sighed sleepily, curling up right there on the couch with his head in Jack’s lap.

Jack grabbed the remote off the arm of the couch to turn the TV down and shifted to get more comfortable. He  _ did _ want to go to bed, but he knew the quiet of the room would be too much, and his head would just refill with unpleasant thoughts, so they stayed on the couch. With the songs of Swedish pop sensation ABBA quietly wafting through the air and the comfort of Crutchie nearby, it wasn’t long before Jack slid into sleep.


	68. Vignettes to Pass the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some scenes. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Will you take me to the Pride parade?”

Jack looked up from the board game he’d—sort of—been playing with Mei, surprised. “What?”

“Will you take me to the Pride parade?” Jackson repeated. “It’s next weekend. I’d like to see it.”

“Oh.” Jack blinked, only processing the concept a bit better the second time around. “Have you asked your mom?”

“No, I wanted to ask you first...” Jackson answered sheepishly.

“Oh,” Jack said again, stupidly. “I mean, yeah, if you wanna go, and your mom says it’s cool, yeah, I can take you.”

For a fraction of a second, Jackson Larkin actually smiled at him. “Thanks.” Then, he took off for the den, where Chris was playing video games.

* * *

“David, do you think we need more streamers?”

Davey gaped for a moment at his mother’s entire hand basket full of red, white, and blue streamers. “No, Mom, I think we have plenty of streamers.”

“I want to try and do the big tree out back,” she explained. “Nice big swoops around the whole thing.”

“Where else are you going to put streamers?” Davey asked.

“On the front porch, the back deck, maybe the kitchen and dining room...”

He nodded. “Okay. Maybe we need a few more streamers.”

“I think so too.” She nodded, already sweeping more into her basket, which was now piled well above capacity.

Davey took a breath. “Okay. What else do we need?”

Mrs. Jacobs looked at her list, clucking thoughtfully. “We need paper plates, napkins, and plastic cutlery still.”

“You remember that this party is two weeks away, right?”

“Yes, I just want to make sure we don’t have a big panic the day before.”

Davey chuckled. “I’m not sure paper plates and cutlery are cause for panic.”

“Exactly—that’s why we’re getting them now.” Mrs. Jacobs smiled, heading down the next aisle.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Davey called after her.

* * *

Once the girls had been put to bed and Medda got home, just a bit before midnight, Jack stopped Medda in the living room and asked her if they could talk for a moment before he headed out.

“Oh, sure, baby,” she said. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh yeah, yeah everything’s fine, I just wanted to run somethin’ by you.”

“Of course, of course.” Medda leaned against the back of the couch and gestured minutely for him to go on.

“Manhattan’s got the Pride parade thing next weekend,” he explained, “and Jackson asked me if I’d take him.”

Medda pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, I’d have to get a babysitter for the other kids, but I guess that’s alright.”

Jack nodded. “I figured bringing the girls probably wouldn’t be the best idea, just cause it’s gonna be pretty loud and all that. I you want, we can cut my rate lower for the day, since I won’t be—”

Medda scoffed. “Nonsense. You’ll still be looking after one of my babies.”

_ Oh thank god _ .

“Wouldn’t want you to think I’m tryna cheat you.” Jack smiled.

“Never, baby.” Medda patted his cheek. “Anything else you need?”

“No, that was it.”

She smiled back. “Thank you, as always, baby. Be safe getting home, alright?”

* * *

“So I brought it up with Medda, and she said it’s cool.”

Davey grinned up at the ceiling of his bedroom. “That sounds fun, Jack! So you and Jackson are getting along, now?”

“I guess? I mean he’s spoken to me of his own free will more than twice now, so that’s something,” Jack chuckled.

“Have you ever been to Pride, before?”

He chuckled again. “Dave I never been to anything before.”

“Well,” Davey’s smile turned a little sad, “I wish I could be there with you. Seems like something boyfriends should do together.”

“Yeah, then we could spend the day telling people we aren’t in fact Jackson’s way too young gay dads,” Jack teased.

Davey laughed. “Oh, he’d love that,” he replied sarcastically.

“He’d just be glad you were there at all.” Jack snickered. “Can’t say I blame him though.”

Davey rolled his eyes, and he was glad they were talking over the phone where Jack couldn’t see him blushing.

“I miss you,” Jack said quietly, and Davey could hear him smiling.

“I know,” Davey said back. “I miss you too, but the Fourth of July’s only a couple weeks away.”

“That’s forever,” Jack grumbled.

“It is not,” Davey chuckled. “Don’t be a baby.”

“I miss sleeping with you,” Jack said, and then quickly continued. “I mean, like, literally sleeping, I don’t mean—”

“I know what you mean, love,” Davey assured him.

Jack was quiet for a moment, and seemed to be trying to start several different sentences at the same time, but none of them went anywhere.

“Jack?” Davey asked.

“Yeah?”

“What are you trying to say?”

Jack sighed, and again, it sounded like a smile. “Just, I love you.”

Davey really needed to stop getting butterflies every time Jack said that. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

* * *

“You have a nice day,” Jack said in farewell to a little old lady who’d bought the latest issue of People Magazine and an ungodly amount of watermelon mentos. He pulled a magazine out of the rack and thumbed through it absently, looking for something of even mild interest to use as bait for the next person he could convince to buy more than just the water bottle they wanted. He was just getting interested in whether or not Ellen and Portia actually  _ were _ getting divorced this time, when—

“Jack? What are you doing here?”

He looked up, shocked by an all too familiar voice. “Kath, hey,”

“Hey!” She smiled. “You work here, now?”

Jack’s brain had stopped working for a second—why did that always seem to happen when she was around?—“I, yeah.”

“Weisel said he hired a ‘new kid’,” she made air quotes, “and my dad sent me down to check it out. I guess I can tell him the stand’s in good hands?”

Oh, of  _ course _ her father owned the one newsstand in New York that Jack had just happened to pick up work at. “Shit, guess I can’t charge you for that then, can I prin—...” Jack gestured at the pack of gum she had picked up as the word ‘princess’ died on his lips. Guess old habits die even harder in the hearts of die hard romantics.

“Please.” Katherine rolled her eyes, handing over a five-dollar bill. “I make my own money now,” she said proudly.

Jack chuckled, quickly dropping his gaze to the register. “Right, right. You got that fancy internship now.”

“What have you been up to, since graduation?” she asked, leaning on the counter.

_ Oh boy, here we go _ . He shrugged, delaying looking back up at her as long as he could. “Just workin’, tryna get my feet under me.”

“Well, that’s great, Jack.”

He chuckled wryly. “It’s somethin’.”

“How’s Charlie?”

“He’s, uh, he’s good,” Jack answered. “Still good grades and all that.”

“Well, tell him I said hi. I’ve gotta run.” She tucked the pack of gum in her pocket and accepted her change from Jack. “It was great seeing you!”

Jack was very careful not to let their hands touch as he dropped the coins into her palm. “Yeah, see ya later, Katherine.”

With her signature dazzling smile, she stepped back out into the crowd and disappeared.

Jack let his breath out in a rush, feeling a good bit like he’d just stepped off a shitty county faire gravitron. Man, Katherine freakin’ Pulitzer. It had been two damn years since they broke up, and every unexpected interaction still felt like a punch to the gut. Luckily, he was quickly distracted by three consecutive text messages from Davey.

“ _ My idiot brother tried to sled down the stairs on a piece of cardboard and sprained his goddamn wrist _ .”

“ _ He’s 13 for the love of god _ .”

“ _ I hope your day is better than mine. Love you _ .”

Jack laughed, and suddenly the air didn’t feel sharp in his lungs anymore. Thank god for Davey Jacobs.

* * *

“But it huuuuurts!”

“Yeah, sprains hurt, Les,” Sarah said.

“They didn’t even take an x-ray!”

Davey, in the passenger’s seat, leaned his elbow against the window and massaged his temple. “I think they know what they’re doing, Les.”

“It could be  _ broken _ .”

“It isn’t broken, Les.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

Davey sighed sharply. “Mom’s gonna kill us.”

“Us!?” Sarah exclaimed. “We didn’t do anything!”

“We were supposed to be watching him!”

“He’s going into high school! He doesn’t need  _ watching! _ ”

“Apparently, he does,” Davey argued.

“I’m fourteen!” Les protested. “I don’t need watching!”

Davey turned around to face him over the center console. “Your birthday isn't until August, and apparently, you do!”

“I slipped! Anyone can slip on the stairs!”

“Surfing on a cardboard box isn’t slipping,” Sarah scoffed.

“Oh my god, why did I leave Manhattan?” Davey groaned.


	69. Hehehe 69

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We rewrote this chapter too many times.

“A’right what have we got today?” Jack muttered to himself, looking at the paper in his hand as he shifted out into the stream of people milling through the station. He raised his voice to loudly read a headline to the crowd, hoping to catch someone’s passing interest. “Terrified flight from burning inferno, you heard the story right here!”

An older man stopped to quickly buy a paper from him on his way by.

“‘Ey thanks, mister,” Jack called after him as he disappeared back into the crowd.

Okay, so he may have improved the headline a little bit. He wasn’t exactly  _ lying _ …he said he heard it right there and he did...and who wants to read about a stupid little factory fire with no real consequences or fatalities, anyway?

He grabbed an issue of People magazine off the rack and flipped through, looking for something worth yelling about. Some celebrity couple Jack had never even heard of had apparently gotten married—or maybe they’d already been married but were renewing their vows or something? Or maybe it was just an ‘exclusive’ on their wedding that happened, like, ten years ago. Either way, that’s not exciting. Celebrity stories hardly ever were; they were just people, living ordinary, boring lives, with much too much money, and not actually doing anything useful with it. Some other famous people had a break up—Jack could’ve sworn he saw the same exact headline about the same exact people when he was working checkout at a grocery store about three years ago, but who can even keep up? Fuck it, he could just make shit up, and he probably wouldn’t even be that far off.

A girl a little younger than him stopped in to buy a soda and flirted with him the entire time, which was entertaining if pretty awkward. He didn’t really have a problem being flirted with, or even flirting back a bit—it was harmless—but it’s always so uncomfortable when people think they’re being subtle, or clever, and they just aren’t. Once she left—it shouldn’t take a person almost ten minutes to buy a Dr. Pepper; it’s just not that complicated—he easily slipped into a conversation about sports statistics with some older, business-y looking guy. Now, Jack knew very little about sports, but that didn’t really matter. When talking with a stranger, people very seldom actually care what that stranger has to say, especially if that stranger is some sort of service worker. As long as Jack made the right noises, and repeated the man’s sentences just differently enough that they sounded like agreement or encouragement, it was easy to keep him smiling and talking until he bought something. After that, he stepped back out, just into the flow of foot traffic, and restarted his inferno spiel, until—

“Excuse me.”

He whipped around, startled by a familiar voice.

Davey raised an eyebrow skeptically. “That’s not what the headline says.”

Jack’s effortless, charming salesman smile was immediately wiped away by something brighter and more sincere, and definitely more surprised. “Davey.”

Davey grinned. “Hi, Jack.”

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” Jack laughed, dropping his magazine onto the nearby rack as he moved towards Davey, like he was pulled by a magnet.

“I wanted to see you,” Davey said, pulling him into a hug.

Jack wrapped his arms around him and pressed a deep kiss to his lips.

Davey hummed happily. “I brought you something.”

“You mean something more than just you?” Jack teased, loosening his embrace so he could shift back half a step to look at Davey, but leaving his arms slung around his waist.

“For your new job.” Davey reached into his book bag, produced a gray newsboy hat, and plopped it on Jack’s head.

“Wh—“ Jack reached up to pull the hat off so he could get a better look at it, and burst into laughter. “Guess I missed the part where we time traveled to the eighteen-hundreds.”

“I think it suits you!” Davey argued, snatching it out of his hands and putting it back on his head.

Jack laughed again, and pressed another quick kiss to Davey’s lips before answering. “Guess I’m a proper newsboy now, then, huh?”

Davey nodded. “The power is in the hat.” He gestured to it.

Jack chuckled. “For sure, makes perfect sense.”

“Well, don’t let me distract you from work. You’ve got papers to sell!” Davey shooed him off.

The rest of Jack’s shift went by, and despite Davey’s protests, Jack was  _ very _ distracted, paying much more attention to Davey than to luring in potential customers.

* * *

A few hours after Davey arrived at Jack’s newsstand, a man who Jack later identified as ‘Weisel’ showed up, and Jack clocked out for the afternoon. They headed back to Jack and Crutchie’s apartment, and Jack got changed for his shift at the auto shop. Crutchie was happily surprised to see Davey as well.

“So how’s family life?” he asked as Jack could be heard complaining in the background about how he didn’t want to go to work.

“Good.” Davey smiled, then cringed. “Mostly. Les sprained his wrist cardboard sledding down the stairs, but...good.”

Crutchie chuckled. “Cardboard sledding, huh?”

“Oh, yes.”

“That sounds like some proper family bullshit right there.” He nodded. “Speaking of; are you gonna come down for family dinner night at the end of the month? Race wants to set fireworks off on the roof, and he specifically asked if you were coming.”

“Well,” Davey laughed, “I didn’t actually book a train ticket back, yet. Thought if I could find people to stay with, I’d stay the week and just take Jack back with me.”

There was a thud from the bedroom and then Jack stuck his head out of the doorway. “Wait, shit, you’re staying!?” He looked very much like a child who’d just been told he got two birthdays this year.

“No, Jack, I’m gonna travel three hours to watch you sell newspapers, then turn around and go back.”

Crutchie snorted, amused, and Jack just grinned, crossing the living room to press a quick kiss to Davey’s lips before being swatted away by Crutchie.

“Would you go to work!?” he scolded, lightly hitting Jack in the knees with his cane.

“Fine. Jesus. Let me be happy!” Jack protested, tripping backwards away from Crutchie’s attack. “I’m already dressed!”

He was, technically, although only half of his weird, short sleeve, plasticy button up shirt that for god knows what reason lots of auto shops provide as a uniform was buttoned.

“Have a good evening at work, babe,” Davey cooed primly, doing his best housewife impression.

Jack grumbled nonsense about unfair labor and lack of quality time as he walked towards the hall closet to get his shoes, buttoning the rest of his shirt as he went.

“Dinner will be ready at seven,” Crutchie joined in Davey’s game, “but you’ll still be working so we’re just gonna eat and have fun without you,  _ hah! _ ”

Davey snorted. “Make good choices!”

“I never have, and I never will!” Jack yelled, grabbing his keys out of the bowl and disappearing into the hallway.

Davey giggled. He had missed this. He had really, really missed this.

“It’s good to have you back, Dave.” Crutchie smiled.

“It’s good to be back.”

Davey and Crutchie hung out for a while, first discussing their plans for the fall semester, then watching some overly dramatic, medical documentary show that Davey thought was pretty gross but Crutchie found riveting—figures, for a pre-med student. Davey couldn’t help but smile when Crutchie got all excited about guessing a diagnosis right. Davey reckoned Crutchie was going to make a damn good doctor, one day.

Once afternoon drifted into evening, Crutchie packed some things into a bag and headed for Race and Albert’s house. He didn’t give an explanation, and Davey didn’t know how to ask for one, but Davey figured it was to give him and Jack some time alone. He appreciated that, and he knew Jack would, as well. He felt surprisingly at home, alone in Jack and Crutchie’s apartment. He supposed it made sense, given how much time he’d spent there during the semester. It was more of a home to him than his dorm building, that’s for sure, although he had enjoyed his room with Spot.

Finally, he heard keys in the door—presumably Jack’s—and after a second, the door swung open.

“Did you make good choices?” Davey asked as he hopped up from his spot on the couch.

Jack flashed him a dazzling smile that nearly knocked him over—it had been too long, and Davey’s built up tolerance had weakened. “No burns or blood tonight, so you tell me.”

Davey grinned back. “I’m proud of you.”

“Well thank god someone is Jack teased, kicking his shoes off and dropping his keys into the bowl on the ledge. “I’ll be right back, I gotta get all this gunk off me.” Jack gestured to himself and headed for the bathroom. Over the months they’d been together, Davey had never seen Jack come home from the autoshop without a decent amount of grease and oil and god knows what else on him, to the point where Davey was no longer entirely convinced it wasn’t on purpose. About fifteen minutes later—post-autoshop showers always took longer—Jack returned to the main room, hair still damp, and his work uniform replaced by a pair of sweatpants and a light blue tshirt.

“Hey.” Davey started towards the kitchen. “There’s some leftover lasagna in the fridge, if you want to—”

“Incoming!” Jack interrupted happily, intercepting Davey and nearly knocking him over with a hug.

Once the moment of initial surprise wore off, Davey laughed, wrapping his arms around Jack and burying his face in his shoulder. Jack hummed happily, curling one arm around Davey’s waist, and the other up across his back.

Davey wasn’t touch starved—his family was plenty tactile, especially his siblings—but he realized in that moment that he was starved for Jack’s touch, specifically. He tightened his arms around Jack’s shoulders.

“”I’m glad you’re here,” Jack said, turning his head to press a kiss to the side of Davey’s head.

Davey let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It felt like he’d been holding his breath since he last left Manhattan. “Me, too.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming!” Jack said, sounding not even slightly upset.

“Well, it wouldn’t have been a surprise, then!” Davey pulled away, lightly smacking Jack’s chest. “I can be spontaneous and exciting!”

“I never said you couldn’t.” Jack pressed a kiss to Davey’s cheek before letting go and heading towards the kitchen.

“You thought it!” Davey called after him. “I could feel it!”

“I thought nothing!” Jack called back. “My head is as empty as my stomach!”

Davey snickered, following Jack into the kitchen. “We can’t have that.”

Jack was already dumping some of the leftover lasagna on a plate to put in the microwave. “Jackson’s gonna be so happy you’re coming to pride with us.”

“I hope you don’t feel like I’m intruding.” Davey leaned forward against the counter, crossing his arms on the top. “I can always hang out with Spot. I just thought you would—”

“Are you kidding?” Jack interrupted, looking at him incredulously. “I want you to intrude.  _ Please _ intrude. Always, with everything.”

Davey smiled. Jack always made him feel wanted, and that was something few people had been able to accomplish.

“Besides,” Jack came over to wrap an arm around Davey’s waist, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “what better way to celebrate being a real couple than pretending to be the much-too-young gay fathers of a resentful nine year old at Pride?”

Davey raised his eyebrows in question. “A  _ real _ couple?”

Jack nodded. “Four months.” He kissed Davey’s cheek again before heading back towards the microwave, which was about to go off. “Your friend Romeo can kiss my ass.”

Davey laughed. “You’re still on that?”

“Well, not anymore, now that I’ve won.”

Davey shook his head fondly, turning and hopping up to sit on the counter. Jack pulled his food out of the microwave and went to stand by Davey, leaning against the counter next to him. 

“I’m glad you’re here, I was actually kind of nervous about Sunday.”

Davey dropped a kiss onto the top of Jack’s head. “Why?”

“‘Cause Jackson hates me, and I wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending a day shepherding him around New York City?”

“Doesn’t sound like he hates you anymore,” Davey said.

“Eh, I’m just useful and gay.”

Davey shrugged. “Can’t argue with that,” he teased, kissing Jack’s head again.

Jack pouted. “Shut up, you love me.”

Davey hummed his assent, absently playing with Jack’s hair, and Jack hummed happily.

“D’you wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Sure. No promises I won’t fall asleep.”

Jack chuckled. “So all will be right with the world.”

* * *

They barely made it halfway through Silverado before Davey fell asleep on Jack’s chest, but Jack didn’t mind even slightly, he was just beyond happy that Davey was there, and he could hold him.

The next morning, when he woke up with an awful crick in his back from sleeping partially sitting up on the couch, he was less happy, but still pretty damn happy since Davey was still there, nestled under his arm with his head resting against Jack’s chest, and his hand balled up in Jack’s T-shirt. Jack groaned quietly as he stretched, arching his back in hopes of getting a pop or at least a crunch from his spine. Davey stirred slightly, scrunching up his face in displeasure and whining as he readjusted himself on Jack’s chest. Jack let out a blustery exhale and relaxed again, smiling down at the beautiful boy who was using him as a pillow.

God, he was beautiful.

Jack had been in love before, and he knew that a part of him would never get over it, no matter how hard he tried, or how much he wanted to. But Davey was something different, something new. Jack had never felt about anyone or anything the way he felt about Davey. He reached up to brush his fingers gently across his cheek, and then ducked down to press a kiss to the top of his head. Davey was still thoroughly asleep.

Jack hadn’t expected to fall in love that February afternoon in the Weinstein dining hall at NYU. In fact, he hadn’t expected to fall in love at all—not again, anyway, not after Katherine, and how hard and fast and thoroughly he had fallen in love with her. What Jack had said to Crutchie those months ago was true; he was an artist, he had feelings, and lots of them. Jack had always been a romantic at heart. Ever since he first learned about the concept of ‘love’, he’d been looking for it, with families that wouldn’t keep him and friends that were lost in the ever moving cycle of the foster system, and then, as he grew older, hunting feverishly through every avenue he could with romance, never finding any deeper meaning that lasted more than a month or two at most. Then, he met Katherine Pulitzer, and all that changed.

First time he met her was by accident, she was just a pretty face he ran into on the street, just someone sweet passing by, but then they kept running into each other, and Jack found himself quickly fixated—turned out they had a class in the same building, hers ending just a few minutes before Jack’s started, so he started showing up for class early, learning to time it so they’d pass each other in the hall or on the street outside. Eventually, he found an excuse to start talking to her, and from there, the rest was history. ‘Creepy’ was what she’d called it later, when he told her, and looking back, he couldn’t say she was wrong. Katherine Pulitzer was almost never wrong, and when she was, she certainly wouldn’t admit it. But back then, Jack didn’t care. She was everything he’d ever wanted; she was beautiful, smart, independent, she even had a wealthy father that hated Jack. It was picture perfect, poetic, everything that a romance between a starving, orphaned artist and a young heiress should be. But pretty things are so often that much more fragile and harder to hold onto. When things ended between them, Jack felt like his whole world had ended, too. It was almost a year before he started dating again, and even then it was just a desperate attempt to recreate what he’d had with her. Of course it didn’t work; it wasn’t what he wanted, it wasn’t  _ who _ he wanted, it wasn’t fulfilling, so he sought other distractions.

Then, David Jacobs came out of nowhere and blindsided him. Jack wasn’t looking for romance, he was looking for lunch, and instead found himself hitting on some poor boy in the dining hall, who, by some insane stroke of luck, actually fell for Jack’s dumb pick up schtick, and then, even luckier, fell for Jack.

Jack knew by now—though he desperatelu didn’t want to admit it—that there was no ‘getting over’ Katherine Pulitzer. He was always going to be in love with her, and part of him was always going to want her, but it was different, now. It was very hard to explain—which was part of why he was doing his best to avoid ever having to try—but his being in love with Katherine and his being in love with Davey were very different, and being in love with Davey was much more important to Jack. He didn’t even know who he’d  _ be _ , without being in love with Davey.

Davey stirred again, this time picking his head up to squint at Jack, frowning, hair a total mess, before grumbling something inaudible and laying his head back down. 

Jack laughed lightly. “Shit, I love you.”

“Shdup.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he chuckled, pressing another kiss to his forehead.

The sun was barely up. They had time before Jack had to leave for the Larkins’ house. They had all the time in the world.


	70. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff, a little angst, a lot of excitement, and one (1) antisemitic slur.

“Dude, would you hold still!?” Jack demanded as Jackson turned his head for what felt like the millionth time. “You said you wanted face paint, and I can’t do face paint if you keep moving.”

“Why is it taking so long?” Jackson whined.

“Because you’re  _ moving! _ ”

He huffed, but stilled all the same. Now that he had stopped moving, it was much easier to finish the Pride flag Jackson had asked for on his cheek.

“Okay,” Jack leaned back in his chair, “now don’t touch your face for a few minutes; give it time to dry.” He set the little brush that had come with the box of face paints down on the kitchen island and turned to look at Davey. “And for you?”

Davey shrugged. “Just something simple. Surprise me.”

Jack grinned. “Yeah, okay.” He picked up the brush again, and carefully wrote ‘my boyfriend loves me’ across Davey’s cheek, each letter a different color. After a moment of debate, he concluded ‘so suck it’ on the other cheek.

When he was done, Davey squinted at him. “What did you write?”

“A poem in three parts, declaring my undying love.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Gross.”

“Jackson, what did he write?” Davey asked.

“‘My boyfriend loves me’,” he answered dutifully, pointing to Davey’s cheek, and then the other, “‘so suck it’.”

“Jack!”

“Whaaat?” Jack laughed.

“That’s not appropriate.” Davey glanced at Jackson with just his eyes, so he wouldn’t notice.

“Fine, fine.” Jack grabbed a napkin, wetting the corner at the sink, and wiped the ‘so suck it’ off of Davey’s cheek. “I’m leaving the other half, though.”

“That’s fine.”

“Okay, we should be good to go,” Jack said, closing the box of face paints.

“Hey, what about you?” Jackson asked indignantly.

“What about me?”

“You don’t have anything on your face!”

Jack scoffed. “I’m not about to trust either of you with a brush near my face.”

“Then you’ll have to paint on yourself,” Davey said, smiling in a distinct ‘you have to do it, the kid said so’ way.

Jack rolled his eyes, opening the paints up again. “Alright, what am I painting?”

“‘If found, return to David’?” Davey suggested.

Jack laughed. “I’m not planning on getting lost.”

“Well, you can’t have a flag,” Jackson told him seriously. “We can’t match.”

“Oh god, of course not.” Jack shook his head.

“Just do the bi flag,” Davey said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jack nodded now, pointing at Davey with the end of the cheap paintbrush. “Thank god we have a smart one.”

He hastily painted a bi pride flag on his cheek and put the paints away again, clapping his hands together. “Alright, we ready to go?”

“I think so,” Davey replied, hopping off the barstool he’d been sitting on.

“Oh, hang on.” Jack lightly smacked Jackson’s shoulder with the back of his hand as he got up, too. “Y’wanna go get Dave his present?”

Davey’s eyes widened. “My what?”

“Oh yeah!” Jackson darted out of the room and Jack cast Davey a smile, but didn’t offer an answer.

Moments later, Jackson returned with a stack of three blue T-shirts, and held the stack out to Davey. “Yours is on top.”

“Okay.” Davey took his T-shirt and unfolded it, revealing the words ‘I’m David’ printed across the back. “Yep, that is my name.”

Jack snickered, grabbing the next one off the pile, ignoring Jackson’s protest of “Hey!” as he held it up to show Davey the words printed on the back: ‘If found, return to David’

Davey sputtered into laughter. “Wow, we’re a hive mind, the three of us.”

Jack nodded. “Terrifying.”

“Well,” Davey patted Jackson on the shoulder, “go change, then we’ll be ready.”

Jackson beamed and took off for the stairs. It was honestly impressive, how quickly and naturally Davey slipped back into a big brother, caretaker role.

Jack smiled. “He’s glad you’re here. Hell,  _ I’m _ glad you’re here.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m here,” Davey teased.

* * *

Davey’s first impression of the Pride festival could be summed up in three words: Loud, crowded, bright.

“Okay, Jackson,” he said as they came up the stairs from the subway station, “keep ahold of one of us at all times, okay?”

“Okay.” Jackson took his hand.

Davey saw Jack roll his eyes, and nearly laughed when he took Davey’s hand as well. “Good.” He squeezed their hands. “I have both my boys, then.” This time, they both rolled their eyes and Davey snickered.

They made their way out into the street, which was filled to the brim with festival-goers. Davey pulled Jack and Jackson a little closer on either side of him.

Jack seemed right at home in the pressing crowd, and moved to spearhead their little trio. “So where we goin’?” he asked over his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Davey replied, then turned back to Jackson. “Is there anything you want to see?”

“Uh, I dunno, I guess everything?”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, the festival goes on for days, kid; we aren’t gonna see everything.”

A passerby lightly, accidentally shoulder-checked Davey, nearly jostling Jackson’s hand away from his.

“Jack,” Davey said, stopping him, “we should put Jackson in the middle.”

The snarl on Jack’s face dropped a second too late to be missed as he turned to meet Davey’s gaze. “Uh, yeah, probably.”

Davey pulled Jackson forward, and Jackson reluctantly took Jack’s hand.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have any cooties you can catch,” Jack assured him.

Jackson sneered. “I don’t believe in cooties.”

“Perfect, then they  _ definitely _ can’t get you.”

“Hey,” Davey said, interrupting, “I hear music; why don’t we see where it’s coming from?”

“Sounds good to me.” Jack agreed, and led them carefully through the crowd.

* * *

Pride was, in a word, chaos. In more words, it was loud and insanely crowded, with more people dressed in more bright colors than Jack had ever really seen in one place at a time. It was hard to really think straight (hah) in such a crowd, but the energy was intoxicating. There were booths with food, booths with drinks, and booths with all sorts of crafts and souvenirs to buy. There were many different stages featuring many varying performers and speakers, and it seemed like the madness stretched on and on without end, even though it really only went a few blocks. Jack was keeping an eye on Jackson and an even closer eye on Davey, who was doing incredibly well for a guy who could barely stand in a room full of friends a few weeks earlier. 

“What do you think?” Jack raised his voice to be heard over the crowd, wanting to check in, just in case.

Davey turned to him and smiled, big and bright and beautiful. “It’s great. I love it.”

Jack beamed, then turned his attention to Jackson. “What about you?”

Much to his surprise, Jackson smiled at him too. “It’s awesome.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

* * *

The time passed in that boring yet exciting, empty sort of way time does at festivals. They watched a few bands perform, listened to a few speakers, and mostly just wandered around passively, drinking it all in. There was something strangely grounding for Davey about having Jackson there in the middle of the rainbow hurricane that was Pride. For years, his primary personality trait had been ‘Les Jacobs’ older brother’, so looking out for a little boy was something he was confident in. Plus, he had Jack there, and he was ten times the person with Jack than he was without. It was easy to tell Jack was on guard dog mode, bristling if anyone got too close, despite the fact that they were in a massive crowd. Davey tried not to think about it. Everything was bright and happy, and he had Jack to protect him and Jackson to protect.

“We should get something to drink, soon,” Davey suggested, while they were watching one of the musicians on a makeshift stage. “It’s hot.”

“Yeah, you are,” Jack replied under his breath. Jackson looked at him in displeasure, and Jack held his hands up in surrender.

Davey rolled his eyes. “Come on. I don’t think Ms. Larkin wants her son to come home dehydrated.”

Jack nodded, beckoning as he started to move, despite the three of them being still conjoined in their hand holding train. “I saw a lemonade spot this way.”

Davey nodded, and off they went, weaving slowly through the dense mass of people. They made it about ten whole feet before they ran into a commotion, and Jackson’s hand was knocked out of Davey’s. Davey reached to take hold of it again, but the small gap between them closed almost instantaneously.

“Shit,” Davey muttered, shoving his way through the human wall in front of him. “Jackson? Jack!?”

Jack probably didn’t even know he was separated, unless Jackson stopped him, which surely he would...if he could.

Davey’s head buzzed uncomfortably, disoriented, but he kept pushing, calling, “Jackson!”

“Davey?” he could hear Jack call through the crowd, but he couldn’t tell how far he was through all the noise.

“Jack!”

* * *

“ _ Shit _ ,” Jack snarled through his teeth. He got a tighter grip on Jackson’s hand and began to shoulder his way through the crowd, hopefully towards Davey. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears as a quiet drone of  _ nonononono _ began to repeat in the back of his mind. How could he have  _ lost him? _ Keeping track of Jackson and Davey should have been his first priority, but if it hadn’t been for Jackson pulling on his hand, he might not even have noticed Davey was gone.

He could hear Davey somewhere in the crowd calling for him. “Dave!” he shouted louder, and the anger that tinged the fear in his voice didn’t really surprise him. Shit, where  _ was _ he!?

After what was probably really only a few seconds, Jack spotted him, and he very nearly knocked someone over as he pushed through the throng to get back to him, keeping a tight grip on Jackson. Davey spotted him a split second later, and the relief that flooded his expression, like all his muscles relaxed at once, was just a little heartbreaking. Silently cursing his carelessness, Jack shoved the rest of the way back to him. He would’ve pulled him into his arms, but he was now hyper aware of possibly losing Jackson, so he settled for just getting a tight hold on Davey’s hand.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry Dave,” Jack said, panting slightly from fighting the tide of people and maybe a bit of panic. “I didn’t realize—”

“It’s okay,” Davey said, and Jack was shocked at how even his voice was, given his hand was shaking. “I’m fine. We’ve got phones. As long as one of us has Jackson.”

Jack swallowed hard and nodded, casting a glance at the kid who belonged to the hand he had a death grip on. “Right.”

Davey cast a thin smile at Jackson. “I’ll hold on tighter, this time. Let’s go.”

Jack shook his head and didn’t let go of Davey’s hand. “I’m in the middle now.” He continued, cutting off any potential protests, “We can do a ‘V’ formation, like geese.”

“Okay...” Davey reluctantly agreed.

Jackson looked less than thrilled, but Jack didn’t care. “Okay, lemonade, take two.”

Lemonade, take two was much more successful than lemonade, take one. Our unlikely trio was soon sitting on a bench, sipping what was definitely Country Time out of paper cups.

“How long until the parade?” Jackson asked.

Jack glanced at his beat up old watch—a Happy Winter Friends present from Buttons a few years back—bringing Davey’s hand with him as he still refused to let go. “I think about thirty minutes?”

“We should find a spot,” Davey suggested.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, finishing his lemonade and tossing the cup in a nearby trash can.

“Kobe,” Jackson deadpanned, then mumbled, “Oh shit, where did mine go?” He looked around, found it on the ground next to the bench, and picked it up.

Davey wrenched his hand out of Jack’s, reached across him, and snatched the cup out of Jackson’s hands at the speed of light. “Here, take mine. I’m not thirsty, anymore.”

Jack pressed his lips together tightly as Jackson frowned a bit at Davey’s reaction. “Something gross coulda fallen in,” Jack offered as an explanation, in an effort to spare Davey.

Jackson looked at Jack like he was an idiot, and Davey quickly stood up, clearing his throat slightly. “I’m going to throw this away. I’ll be right back.” Jack carefully watched him go.

“I’m not a baby, you know,” Jackson said. “I know why he did that.”

“Y’ can’t be too careful,” Jack replied tightly, keeping his eyes on Davey and trying not to wonder how in the hell Jackson knew that at  _ nine _ .

Luckily, Davey was back moments later. “Alright. Lead the way, Jackson.”

They reformed their train with Jack in the middle now, and Jackson led them into the crowd, looking for a place to watch the parade. Of course, Pride in New York City is not an easily navigable place, especially when it’s almost time for the parade, and they had a hell of a time finding a spot where they could stand together. Eventually, they settled by a telephone pole on the street corner, using it as a bit of a barricade, but the crowd was so thick that Jack could barely see the street in front of them, and poor Jackson was practically drowning.

“Okay, this is dumb, Jack said, and after making sure Davey was between himself and the telephone pole, so he was best guarded, he let go and got ahold of Jackson with both hands under his arms. It takes a bit of effort to lift a nine year old boy up to sit on your shoulders, especially when said boy is wiggling and demanding to know what you’re doing you idiot, but Jack managed.

“Can you see now?” he asked, ignoring the heel kick to his rib cage.

“Yeah, I can see,” Jackson grumbled indignantly.

“Good. Plus, now you’re taller than Davey, which is rare, so enjoy it while you can.”

“I’m not  _ that _ tall,” Davey protested.

“You’re a giant,” Jack answered, taking his hand again now that Jackson was settled and lifting it to press a kiss to the back.

“Not anymore!” Jackson teased, reaching down to pat Davey on the head.

Davey winced briefly, but turned it into a smile just as fast. “Thanks, Jackson.”

Jack cringed, but there wasn’t much he could do that Jackson wouldn’t notice or question. Davey noticed and smiled sympathetically, which was...backwards. Luckily, distraction arrived as the parade began, and everything was chaos. Jack was very glad he had Jackson on his shoulders, so there was no chance of him disappearing, and Davey right next to him, holding his hand.

* * *

The Pride parade—what Davey could see of it anyway—was pretty incredible, and it was ten times better with Jack there. Davey had spent the last six years, seven if you count the initial identity crisis, with one foot in the closet, not  _ ashamed _ per se, but not loud and proud. Pride, on the other hand, lived up to its name, and it was borderline intoxicating. There were more people than Davey had ever seen in just one place, and they were all yelling and laughing and cheering. Jack was chattering eagerly about the floats and the costuming that some people had, and he could practically see Jackson’s little baby gay heart glow, soaking it all in. Davey  _ wished _ he’d had someone like Jack, when he was a kid—someone to look up to who was like him, who could show him how to be proud of himself.

“That was amazing!” Jackson enthused once the parade was over and Jack let him down off his shoulders.

Jack straightened up again, ruffling a hand through his own hair, as if having Jackson on his shoulders had somehow compromised the mess that his hair already was. “Yeah, it was pretty cool.”

“Hey, we should probably take a picture for your mom, huh?” Davey suggested, placing a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. He knew how moms were.

Jackson nodded. “Yeah. Let’s find something that looks super gay for a background.”

Jack choked into laughter. “Look no further, we’re right here,” he said, gesturing between himself and Davey.

Davey playfully shoved at Jack’s shoulder, and Jackson rolled his eyes. “Something better.” Jack gasped in mock insult.

Davey just laughed. “Come on, there’s gotta be a flag or something around here...”

Luckily, now that the parade had passed, the crowd was beginning to thin out—barely, but nonetheless.

“There was that one wall marked out for street art, maybe there’s something cool,” Jack suggested with a grin. “Or we could make something, if anyone’s left chalk or paint or anything.”

“Sounds good to me.” Davey looked to Jackson, who nodded, so they joined hands again and headed back into the crowd, heading towards the art wall that belonged to the side of a Starbucks.

“Okay.” Davey nodded, surveying the artwork. “We can probably find a spot big enough for the three of us that doesn’t have, uh...”

Jackson looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Dicks?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Excuse you, those are clearly flowers,” Jack corrected, snickering.

Davey saw an opening and pulled them towards it. “Come on.”

“Ooh, hang on.” Jack had spotted a little crate of chalk sitting on the sidewalk and pulled a piece out as Davey and Jackson went to the wall. He wrote ‘tall gay’, with an arrow pointing to Davey, ‘small gay’ with an arrow pointing to Jackson, and ‘medium gay’ with an arrow to an empty space for himself.

Davey laughed. “Perfect.”

* * *

They took a few pictures—selfies at various angles, and they even asked a few nice passers by to get one from a bit farther away, so you could see more of the art wall, but not quite enough to see the array of dicks. They turned out really cute, and Jackson hadn’t even been too offended when Jack and Davey asked to take one of just the two of them. In the end, that one might have been Jack’s favorite. They looked happy, and you could clearly see ‘My boyfriend loves me’ on Davey’s cheek.

Jack hooked a finger into Davey’s back pocket, lightly pulling him out of the way of a couple exiting the Starbucks, and took the opportunity to press a quick kiss to Davey’s lips as he turned to ask Jack what he was doing, having not noticed the couple.

The passing woman looked at them scathingly. “Honestly, you should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Jack broke the kiss and turned to look at her in mildly irritated bemusement. “Excuse me?”

“As if all this indecency isn’t bad enough,” she waved around at the general area, “you have to bring a poor child into it, as well?”

Jack dropped his arm from Davey’s waist to hold his hands up placatingly. “A’right relax, lady, we got just as much a right to be here as anyone.”

That’s when the man who was with her stepped in, spouting, “Jesus hates fags, and you have this kid  _ brainwashed _ —”

“Oh  _ now _ who’s being indecent!?” Jack interrupted loudly.

“Frankly, sir,” Davey began, stepping up and placing a hand in front of Jack, “I’m Jewish, so I don’t give a crap what Jesus thinks. May we go?”

Jack didn’t bother to contain a snort of malicious amusement. At this point, though he knew it unwise, he almost  _ wanted _ to get a rise out of this man.

At this point, the man looked like he might physically explode. He gestured aggressively towards Jackson. “Oh, and I guess you’re putting a bunch of crazy kike ideas in his head, too?” he yelled at Davey, whose jaw dropped slightly.

“Whoa, hey!” Jack barked, taking a step between the man and the other two. The man tried to side-step Jack to get back to Davey, and Jack stepped with him, staying resolutely in his way, so they ended up chest to chest. “Back up,” Jack ordered through a snarl.

Someone in the crowd called, “Stop harassing them!” But the plea fell on deaf ears.

The woman sneered. “Your parents must be so ashamed of you.”

“Not as ashamed as your kids must be of you!” Jack shot back venomously as the dig hit even harder than she intended.

Unfortunately, this left a small but present opening for the man to get to Davey and Jackson. Davey shoved Jackson behind him as the man jabbed a finger against his chest. “You disgusting—”

“Don’t touch me,” Davey said icily.

“I’ll touch you if I want.”

This was more than enough for Jack, and he whirled back towards the man. Not bothering to attempt a more elegant solution, he allowed the momentum of his body to carry into his arm and sent his fist cracking against the hinge of the man’s jaw. The woman cried out indignantly, and Davey and Jackson stumbled back towards the wall. The man staggered back slightly on impact, caught off guard, and looked at Jack with surprised anger.

“If you touch, I touch,” Jack snarled, bringing his fists up, ready for a fight.

“Call the police,” the man said to the woman, who was already pulling her phone out of her purse.

“Ahh, fuck,” Jack muttered under his breath, shaking his hand out and bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as his gaze darted nervously from the woman to the man, then to Davey and Jackson behind him. Davey was even paler than usual, which was saying something, and Jackson’s eyes were comically wide as he watched the scene with fascination. “Shit,” Jack breathed, stepping back to grab Davey’s hand, and looking to make sure he had a solid grip on Jackson. “C’mon, we gotta run.”

“What?” Davey asked, startled. “Jack, we didn’t  _ do _ anyth—”

Jack shook his head, pulling them into motion. “Come on, we gotta  _ go! _ ”

Jackson went willingly, and after a moment, Davey stopped dragging his feet as well. Jack took off at a run, casting one more look over his shoulder at the lady on her phone. He was a little surprised the man hadn’t tried to stop them, but honestly that counted as lucky. In the back of his mind, he knew Davey was probably right; they hadn’t done anything but defend themselves, and lord knows there were plenty of witnesses who would almost undoubtedly stand up for them. Unfortunately, old habits die hard as a rock, and he was halfway to a panic attack as it was. Jack pulled Davey and Jackson along for another two or three blocks before Davey’s shouts of ‘slow down, we lost them’ really even registered. He came quickly to a stop, and Davey skidded into him, panting.

“Shit,” Jack exhaled roughly, sagging back against the wall of the alley they’d crashed into. He was breathing heavily, from adrenaline and mild panic as much as from exertion.

“Jacks—Jackson,” Davey reached for the kid, “you okay?”

Jackson, who had barely broken a sweat, nodded. “That was  _ awesome _ .”

Jack looked up at him in surprise. “What?”

“You totally showed that guy!” Jackson beamed excitedly. “That was badass.”

Davey’s eyes widened, and he let out a hysterical little laugh.

Jack chuckled nervously. It occurred to him that, if Jackson said anything to Medda, Jack would more likely than not be fired. This wasn’t as utterly terrifying prospect as it would’ve been a few weeks ago, before he started at the newsstand, but as it was, Medda paid better hourly than either of his other jobs, and on top of that, he didn’t want to lose the kids—especially not now that he’d finally started to make progress with Jackson. “‘Awesome’, right.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair, casting a wary glance towards the mouth of the alley. Realistically, he wasn’t expecting pursuit, but still.

Davey sat down on the ground and wiped his sweaty hair off his forehead. Thank goodness they had made him change out of the button-down he’d been wearing that morning and into his ‘I’m David’ T-shirt, or he might have passed right out from heat exhaustion.

Jack turned his attention back to Jackson for the moment. “So you’re not hurt or traumatized or anything?” Jackson shook his head, and Jack nodded. “Okay, cool.”

“Now what?” Davey asked.

“We should probably get Jackson home, before the day gets any more awesome.”

“Right.” He slowly stood up, still breathing heavily. “I’ve had enough awesome.”

Jack pushed off the wall, straightening up, and moved to put a hand on Davey’s arm. “You alright?” he asked, concerned on a level that was best left undiscussed in front of Jackson.

“Yeah, just really out of shape,” Davey laughed, catching Jack with a  _ we’ll talk later _ glance.

Jack nodded, and slid his hand down his arm to take his hand instead, getting his phone out with his other hand. “I’ll find us a subway station.”

* * *

Overall, it had been a good day. Jackson was tired and happy, and he fell asleep leaning against Davey’s shoulder in the subway, which made the rough patches sting a lot less. Jack, on Davey’s other side, hadn’t let go of his hand since they caught their breath in the alley, and he kept fidgeting with it, absently playing with his fingers or brushing his thumb over his knuckles. Davey was exhausted, and he wanted to lean on Jack and close his eyes, but he didn’t want to move Jackson, so he settled for just closing his eyes and focusing in on the feeling of Jack’s hand in his.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Jack murmured quietly.

Davey opened his eyes again to look at him. “For what?” In this case, it was a genuine question. A lot had happened, not that any of it was Jack’s fault.

“I shouldn’t’ve let ‘im get that close,” Jack said, staring at Davey’s hand rather than his face.

“You’re not my bodyguard, Jack, you’re my boyfriend.” Davey shook his head. “You know I’d prefer you not  _ punch _ people—”

“Yeah, an’ I’d prefer strange men not touch you, but here we are.”

Davey shut his mouth and dropped his gaze to the floor as the comment hit like a punch to the chest. There they were. “For what it’s worth...” he began, but his voice was weaker than it was before, “thank you.”

Jack sighed, and put his other hand on Davey’s. “I’m sorry it got as far as it did. That bastard had no right—”

Davey shushed him, casting a glance at Jackson, who was still sound asleep.

Jack pressed his lips together tightly for a moment before continuing. “Are you okay? That’s a dumb question, I know, I just mean like...” He trailed off, seeming to not have a proper ending.

Davey sighed. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, love.”

“I know you know that folks don’t just have the right to touch you if they want. I know you’re not stupid. But I know it can be kinda hard to feel like that’s really true after...what happened.”

“Do we really have to talk about that, right now?” Davey snapped before the words even fully registered. He regretted his tone immediately, but the sentiment was valid. They had a nine year old kid with them, for God’s sake.

Jack’s face hardened the way people’s do when trying not to frown. “No. No, we don’t have to talk about it now. Sorry.”

Davey took a deep breath and sighed again. He was...well, he  _ felt _ like he was doing better, but he knew it was fragile, and there was a lot of darkness and a lot of hurt behind a very thin wall that was bound to crumble at some point. He checked to make sure Jackson was, in fact, still asleep, before looking back at the floor in front of him. “It follows me everywhere, Jack,” he explained quietly. “I don’t set down drinks in my own house. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. I just want to forget, and the funny thing is...I don’t even really remember. Not clearly.”

“I know.” Jack lifted Davey’s hand to kiss the back of it. “I’m sorry.”

Davey smiled sadly. “Don’t be sorry.”

“Well, I’m gonna be.” Jack replied, finally meeting his eyes and matching his smile.

Davey didn’t know how to argue. He knew Jack blamed himself to an extent, and he hated that, but he couldn’t police Jack’s feelings. He squeezed his hand. He wanted to ask if it got better, but not right then, not on the subway with a sleeping child—nothing to do with being afraid of the answer.

* * *

‘Don’t tell your mom what happened’ was a level of creepy and concerning Jack wasn’t willing to stoop to, despite the situation, so all he could do was hope Jackson either wouldn’t say anything or that Medda would be miraculously understanding. She was already home when they got back, so after a quick report—mostly Jackson enthusing about what an awesome day it was, Jack and Davey headed home. This time, Davey fell asleep on Jack on the bus, smudging his face paint all over Jack’s shoulder. Jack didn’t mind, of course. He was at his happiest when smudged with paint, and he always wanted Davey close. When they got to their stop, he gently nudged him awake. Thankfully, it was a short walk from there back to the apartment. Davey hummed sleepily and took Jack’s hand as they made their way back. Like a reflex, Jack lifted his hand to brush a gentle kiss across his knuckles, and Davey smiled. His face paint was nothing more than a muddy-colored blob, now, but there was something so stupidly charming about Davey when he was messy. Even now, four months later—Jesus Christ, had it only been four months?—Jack still got butterflies whenever Davey smiled, whether it was at him, or because of him, it didn’t matter. Jack decided in that moment that he didn’t care what he did for the rest of his life, just as long as David Jacobs was by his side, smiling.

“I had fun, today,” Davey said, then continued before Jack could argue. “I mean it. It was chaotic, but it felt nice to be...out...like that...”

Jack smiled. “Yeah, it’s fun to be loudly gay.”

“It is!” Davey’s eyes widened suddenly, and he paused. “Oh my god, I’m coming out to my family, this weekend.”

Jack kept his smile carefully in place, determined to be unshakable and supportive, as he knew what a big deal it was, and he knew Davey was nervous. “And unfortunately for you, you’ve got me with you, so God knows it’s gonna be loud.”

“Oh, you just wait until you meet my bubbe,” Davey laughed. Then, “Holy shit, my  _ whole ass family _ ...”

“Hey.” Jack nudged him lightly with his shoulder. “We got this. It’s gonna be great.”

“It’s gonna be something.”

“They’re gonna love us,” Jack assured him, even though he honestly had less than high hopes, considering his track record with families. “They already love you, and I’m irresistible, remember?”

“Well, Sarah and Les already like you more than they do me,” Davey teased.

Jack scoffed. “It’s your own fault for snagging a ten.”

“You’re right. I’ll have to leave you for a seven or so.”

“Don’t you  _ dare! _ ”

* * *

It was really much too late when Davey texted Sarah the picture of him and Jack in front of the art wall.

* * *

_ David sent a photo _

David: We’re cuter than you.

Sarah: Omg look at you guys

_ David sent a photo _

David: Here’s one with Jackson, the kid.

Sarah: Did everyone have fun?

David: Oh, yes. We drank crappy lemonade, I got called homophobic and antisemitic slurs in one conversation, and we ran from nonexistent cops. Tell Mom and Dad I’m the wild child, now.

David: Actually don’t

Sarah: Oh holy shit! What happened??

David: Well, first, we walked up the lemonade stand.

Sarah: oh my god

David: Okay, so you know how I said I got called homophobic and antisemitic slurs in one conversation? Jack punched the guy, then the guy’s wife called the cops, and Jack dragged us out of there before there could be any more trouble. It’s really not as exciting as it sounds.

Sarah: I don’t know, that sounds pretty exciting. Who was the guy?

David: Just some crazy, Christian guy outside a Starbucks.

Sarah: Yikes. Are you okay?

David: I’m fine. How’s the party prep going? How mad is Mom that I skipped out?

Sarah: it’s fine, we’re rearranging the deck furniture, so we could’ve used your big muscly self for sure.

David: My what, now?

Sarah: xP

David: Anyway, darn, I was hoping she’d go ahead and disown me and save me the trouble of bringing Jack home.

Sarah: What, you don’t want to?

David: Of course I do, but I also don’t.

David: What if they don’t like him, Sarah? I would never be able to choose between our parents and Jack.

Sarah: Why wouldn’t they like him?

David: Because he’s a boy, he’s not Jewish, and I want to marry him and raise kids with him and quite possibly be buried next to him.

Sarah: Well, maybe don’t open with that much intensity, lol

David: I won’t, but Sarah, I’m serious. I am 100% convinced that this is my person, and I’m freaking out.

Sarah: Dave, we all love you. I’m sure mom and dad will love Jack, too. As long as he’s good to you, and you’re happy.

David: Do you think so?

Sarah: Yeah, I do. They’ll probably be a bit surprised that you’re gay, since that’s like, the usual reaction, but I don’t see why they’d get all torn up about it, as long as you’re happy.

David: Do you think they’ll be mad I’ve been lying to them?

Sarah: Probably

David: Fantastic.

Sarah: I mean can you blame them?

David: No.

Sarah: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

Davey groaned, flopping back against the back of the couch. “I’m a horrible son.”

“What?” Jack spoke loudly to be heard from the kitchen, over the popcorn in the microwave, and Davey could hear the confused frown in his voice.

“I’ve been lying to my parents for six years,” he called back.

“About what?” Jack asked, ever oblivious.

“That he’s  _ gay _ , dumbass!” Crutchie shouted from the bedroom.

“Oh, duh, right.” Jack made his way into the living room, bowl of popcorn in hand. “I dunno if that counts as being a horrible son.”

“The  _ lying _ does,” Davey grumbled, snatching a handful of popcorn as Jack made his way by.

Jack scrunched his face up in less than pleased agreement. “I guess that’s kinda bad, yeah.”

“Jack!” Crutchie threw the bedroom door open. “You’re not supposed to say that!”

Jack jumped a bit as the door slammed into the wall, spilling a bit of the popcorn. “What am I supposed to say!?” He protested. “‘Nah, Dave, parents  _ love _ lies. It don’t matter.’ I may know shit all about parents, but I’m not  _ that _ dumb!”

“It’s called a white lie. Ever heard of ‘em?”

Davey laughed and shook his head. These two were really too good for this world.

“Yeah, I’ve  _ heard _ of them, Crutchie,” Jack shot back with a good natured sneer, “but I’m not  _ allowed _ to lie to Dave, remember?”

“David,” Crutchie said firmly, “there’s nothing to worry about. Your parents are still going to love you, no matter what.”

Davey smiled. “Thanks, Crutchie.”

“No one’s gonna think you’re horrible,” Jack agreed, sitting down on the couch and setting the popcorn down on the coffee table in favor of grabbing the remote.

“And if they do, I’ll beat them with my cane!” Crutchie concluded cheerfully.

“That won’t be necessary,” Davey assured him, taking another handful of popcorn. 

“Yeah I’m the aggressive dickhead here, remember?” Jack teased.

Davey turned to Jack. “So what are we watching?”

“Wanna watch—”

“—Silverado again?” Crutchie spoke at the same time as Jack, rolling his eyes in amusement.

Jack shot an affectionate glare at Crutchie. “Shut up; it’s a classic.”

Davey giggled. “Sure, Silverado sounds great, love.” He cuddled up against Jack’s side and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for taking me to Pride and saving me from the mean Jesus man.”

Jack chuckled, dropping an arm around Davey’s shoulders. “Just doin’ my job.”


	71. Zero to a Hundred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It starts with homemade pizza and ends with a minor psychotic break.

“Jack, how did we ever do family dinner nights without your boyfriend?” Crutchie asked, sitting on the counter while Davey put their homemade pizzas in the oven.

“Badly,” Jack replied. “We did them badly.”

Davey blushed slightly. “Without my mom’s homemade pizza recipe, you mean.” He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the praise, but his parents had always raised him to be humble.

With the pizzas in the oven, the apartment cleaned, and pretzels in a giant bowl on the counter, there was nothing left to do but wait for the guys to show up.

“Well, you be sure to tell your mom I’m a big fan of her work,” Jack teased.

Davey teased back, “You can tell her yourself this weekend.”

“Wanna bet?” Jack snickered.

Suddenly, the front door slammed open, and Race tumbled in, followed by a vaguely furious-looking Spot and a highly confused Albert.

“There had better be some fucking pretzels in this home!” Race wailed.

Crutchie pointed at the bowl on the counter, but Race had already spotted it and was on his way over. He stopped short, however, when he saw the third occupant of the kitchen. “Dave!? What are you doing here!?”

Davey was sure he had told Race he was coming to visit. “Making pizza?”

“Holy shit!” Whatever had Race so upset was forgotten, at least for the moment, and he bounced happily on the balls of his feet. “Is this my surprise?” he asked Crutchie, and Crutchie rolled his eyes.

“No, stupid, your surprise is the pretzels.”

“Race’s folks only buy dumb fancy pretzels,” Jack said aside to Davey. “Apparently they suck.”

Davey nodded in understanding.

Spot made his way into the kitchen and shot Davey a very tight smile. “S’good to have you back, man.”

“Is everything okay?” Davey asked quietly. Jack and Spot could hear, but hopefully no one else could.

Spot huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Imagine being Jack’s second choice.”

Davey cringed. “I don’t want to.”

“Yeah.”

Jack cringed sympathetically as well. “Sucks, man.”

Spot shrugged and leaned back against the counter. “I made my bed, I’ll lie in it.”

Any further discussion was quelled by Henry, Smalls, and Mush arriving, not bothering to knock on the door left hanging open in Race’s wake.

“I brought the shitty, grocery store sugar cookies with the frosting!” Smalls declared loudly, and the entire apartment erupted into chaos, save for Spot and Davey.

“You come back early, then?” Spot asked.

“Just for the week.” Davey smiled as Jack’s face lit up when he managed to snag one of the cookies. “I couldn’t stay away, too long.”

Spot nodded. “Right, can’t trust ‘im not to do something dumb on his own.” He nodded towards Jack with a smirk.

Davey quirked an eyebrow as Race jumped on top of Henry’s back to get to the cookies. “I’m sure you relate.”

Spot rolled his eyes heavily as Henry was felled like a tree. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head in exhausted amusement.

Davey smiled knowingly. “It’s hard to stay mad at him, isn’t it?”

Spot huffed. “‘D be a lot easier if he weren’t so damn cute.”

“Ooh, you’ve got it so bad,” Davey snickered.

Jack appeared then on the other side of the counter and leaned across towards Davey. “Trade a kiss for a cookie?” he asked, wiggling one of two cookies in his hands.

“You could just ask for a kiss, but I’ll take the cookie, anyway,” Davey responded, taking the cookie and leaning in to kiss Jack. “Thanks, babe.”

Jack kissed him sweetly, just deep enough to make it a Real Kiss. The second they broke, Race appeared, also holding a cookie, and glaring at Jack.

“It doesn’t count if you  _ ask _ .”

“We made a bet,” Jack explained to Davey.

“Yeah and you cheated!” Race accused

“I did  _ not _ ,” Jack insisted, looking back to Race. “Consent is sexy. Fuck off.”

“Consent is the sexiest, and stop making bets on me!” Davey shoved Jack’s shoulder playfully.

Jack pouted, teasing. “But that’s our thing!”

“I am not some prize to be won!” Davey quoted from Aladdin, and Spot scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Jack huffed. “What’s my prize then?”

“Your cookie,” Davey replied.

“What fun is that?” Jack pouted. “...Can I just trade it for another kiss instead?”

* * *

The homemade pizzas were, of course, a hit. Mush declared it ‘the best dinner he’d had’, and Crutchie tried not to be upset as he started clearing the plates. Davey helped, assuring him all the while that his homemade pizzas had never been this good, so he must have the magic touch.

“Ding ding ding,” Jack called from the table, tapping two uneaten crusts together.

Davey snorted and Crutchie rolled his eyes as they turned to watch whatever was about to happen.

“Hey fellas,” Jack began in an unexpectedly serious tone, “I have something I want to say.”

Davey and Crutchie glanced at each other questioningly, then made their way back towards the table.

Jack set the crusts back down on the plate, and continued, standing. “You guys been in my life a long time, an’ you mean the world to me. You’s my family, really, so I feel like I should tell you...I’m gay.”

The room fell deadly silent, with everyone looking at Jack in varying degrees of confusion, much like they might of someone used a fancy word like ‘auspicious’ or something.

Crutchie finally broke the silence. “Um...Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re fucking bi.”

The room burst into laughter as Jack blushed and sputtered. “The sentiment is the same!”

“Jack,” Smalls exclaimed, “your  _ boyfriend _ is right there!”

“I know that! I just wanted to tell you guys!”

But no one was paying attention now, as they laughed and dispersed.

“Well I, for one, am very glad,” Davey told Jack.

Jack huffed poutily, moving to take Davey’s hand. “I just thought, since Jackson came out, and you’re coming out...”

“That you should come out?”

He shrugged, twisting evasively. “It’s dumb.”

“Yeah, I should probably be mad at you for making fun of one of the most stressful events of my life, but you’re cute,” Davey put an arm around his shoulders, “so I’m giving you a pass.”

“I’m not trying to make fun of it!” Jack answered quickly, horrified at the suggestion.

Davey laughed. “Re _ lax _ , babe. It was funny.”

Jack sighed. “I’m sorry; I meant it to be, like, a fun, supportive thing.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I love you and accept you and will support you no matter what,” Davey told him, “even if you’re gay or bi or whatever newfangled thing the kids are trying out these days.”

Jack smiled. “Thanks, I feel like an idiot.”

“A sweet idiot.”

He smiled again apologetically. “‘M sorry.”

“For what?” Davey laughed. “Why are you all guilty all of a sudden? I was kidding about being offended.”

“You sure? Looking at it now I see it was pretty dumb,” Jack admitted sheepishly.

“Of course I’m sure,” Davey rolled his eyes, “and I hope we get this kind of mundane reaction this weekend.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll do a better job with the delivery, anyway.”

“Than telling a bunch of people who already know I’m gay that I’m gay?” Davey whistled lowly. “The bar is high, Jack. Really high.”

Jack rolled his eyes and shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

* * *

As usual, family dinner night ended with a movie, and Jack somehow convinced everyone to watch Big Jake. This, of course, led to him announcing he would ‘gargle Patrick Wayne’s balls for negative one hundred dollars’, and this, of course, earned him several smacks and pillows to the face as the other boys shouted.

“Hey, hey babe, can I have a free pass for Patrick Wayne?” Jack asked Davey, elbowing him in the side.

Davey shoved him back. “Seeing as he’s old, now, I don’t see why not.”

“Eh, I’ll find a time machine someday,” Jack replied, grinning.

Suddenly, Race hopped over the back of the couch and plunked down between Davey and Spot, practically on Davey’s lap, with the entire bowl of pretzels in his arms. “Hey, David. Dave. Davey.” Henry, who was sitting on the floor in front of them, shushed him loudly, but Race just kicked him in the head and continued. “You want some pretzels?”

“No thanks, Race,” Davey chuckled.

“They’re good,” Race promised. 

“He knows, stupid, he’s had pretzels before,” Jack pointed out, but Race ignored him in favor of continuing to press the offer.

“Are you sure? I’ll feed it to you.”

Spot made a face, and Davey snorted. “I really don’t want pretzels, Race. They’re for you.”

“But I want you to have one,” Race argued, picking up a pretzel and moving it slowly towards Davey’s face. “Sharing is caring!”

“Race, really, I don’t—”

“ _ Brrrmmm _ , here comes the airplane!” Race interrupted loudly, making swooping motions with the pretzel in his hand as it got closer, until it collided with Davey’s closed mouth.

Before Davey had any chance to react, he was startled by Jack suddenly surging to his feet next to him. “ _ Jesus Christ _ , Race, he said ‘no’!” Jack practically shouted. “Would you leave ‘im the fuck alone!?”

Race and Davey both jumped a little at the sudden outburst, and Race held his hands up like he was being arrested. “Woah, dude, I was just giving him a pretzel.”

“He  _ said _ he didn’t want one. Take a fuckin’ hint.”

“Jack, it’s okay,” Davey said, grabbing ahold of his wrist and trying to pull him back down to the couch.

Jack sat back down, clearly agitated.

“What’s the matter, Jacky?” Davey asked quietly, concerned. Jack had been fine, like, two seconds earlier.

“You said ‘no’!” Jack repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Little shit needs t’ learn t’ fuckin’ listen.”

“Hey!” Race protested, but not very solidly. “It’s a fucking pretzel! It’s not like I raped him or something!”

Spot groaned, “Ah,  _ shit _ .”

Jack was on his feet again, and now he was definitely shouting. Davey had never seen anyone get so angry so quickly.

“What the  _ fuck _ is wrong with you!?”

Davey shot to his feet as well, planting himself between Jack and Race. “Jack—”

It didn’t seem like Jack heard him, as he continued to yell, fuming. “D’you even  _ think _ when you speak? Are you even  _ able? _ Why the fuck would you say that!? What the fuck is wrong wi’ you!?”

“What the fuck is wrong with  _ me!? _ ” Race shouted back. “What’s wrong with  _ you!? _ ”

Jack looked about ready to punch the poor kid through the floor as he moved to take a step around Davey. Luckily for Race, Spot appeared in his way.

“Jack, stop,” Davey begged, but he could barely even hear himself over Jack, Race, and now Spot all shouting over each other. It was awful. Everyone else had backed away by now, and were all watching apprehensively as the volume and tension continued to rise. Unfortunately, Davey was trapped between the angry mob and the couch. He raised his voice—“Stop, all of you!”—but no one took notice.

Mercifully, Spot didn’t seem to be rising to the bait Jack was throwing in his face, but Jack wasn’t about to back down.

“If ‘e can’t watch his own fuckin’ mouth, you’ better be doin’ it for ‘im,” Jack snarled at Spot, and Spot just rolled his eyes.

Race, on the other hand, tried to dive over Spot’s shoulder, screaming. “I’ll watch  _ your _ mouth with my fists!”

“You wanna fuckin’ go little man!?” Jack shouted, looking like he might explode.

“No!” Davey interjected. “Jack—”

“Touch him, and I will break every bone in your body!” Spot shot back.

Jack got right in Spot’s face. “Just try it. I’ve dealt with a hun’red times worse than th’ likes of you.”

Finally, Davey took a deep breath in and screamed at the top of his lungs, “ _ Stop it!!! _ ”

This, thank God, finally broke through, and Jack took a step backwards, clamping and unclamping his fists at his sides, trying to force his breathing into an even pattern. The room fell deadly still and silent, and it was almost as oppressive as the shouting. It all started to sink in—what Race had said, what Jack had said back, what Spot had said after that. Davey gritted his teeth and blinked furiously as tears threatened to well up in his eyes.

“You should go home,” Jack told Race in a low, even voice that was somehow scarier than when he had been shouting.

“Jack—” Crutchie began, but Jack spoke over him, attention still on Race.

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ look at you.”

“Oh my god,  _ stop _ ,” Davey snapped.

Jack took a slow, wavering breath, shaking one of his hands out at his side, like he was trying to dispel some of his tension. He took another step away, pointing towards the bedroom. “‘Scuse me, I’m gonna—...” He trailed off into nothing and headed for the bedroom. The other guys moved out of his way as he crossed the room, and he shut the door behind him.

Crutchie sighed heavily, and Race began to loudly complain, “I didn’t even do anything!”

Davey just shook his head. “I need some air. I’ll be back...” He headed out of the apartment, all the way down the stairs and out onto the street. It was a warm night, a little humid. Before he knew it, he was down the block.

Race was harmless, and Davey hadn’t been bothered by his antics until Jack made a big deal about it, but then...Race had taken it too far. Then, Jack had taken it farther.

Davey ended up on a bench outside an apartment building a few blocks away, confused and numb. He should head back. They’d be looking for him. He didn’t move.

* * *

Jack shut the door behind him and leaned back against it, letting his head fall back against the flimsy wood. He took a slow breath. He was still angry. The emotion sat, heavy and tight in the base of his stomach, like a coiled spring. He needed to let the tension out, or it would just get worse, but there wasn’t much he could do with an apartment full of people, and he had made a bad call heading for the bedroom instead of outside.

Race was an idiot, he always had been, and it had never bothered Jack, until he took his idiocy out on Davey.

Jack took another breath, even slower this time, and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He knew he’d overreacted, but that didn’t really matter at this point, the damage was already done. He had never heard Davey shout like that before, and he never wanted to hear it again.

“Y’ fucked up...” he growled to himself under his breath, rubbing at his closed eyes till he saw swirls of color against the black. He dropped his arms then, with a rough exhale, and began to pace the room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, repeating the word like a mantra and swinging his arms in an effort to clear his head and calm himself. It would’ve been faster work, if he’d had something to beat the shit out of—he should really try to find someone selling a cheap punching bag—but as it was, all he could do was marinate in his own stupidity. He got mad because he wanted people to listen to Davey, but how well did  _ he _ listen to Davey, really?

It was a good twenty minutes before he managed to calm down enough to leave the feeble sanctuary that the bedroom offered. As was the usual when someone blew up, the rest of the group had moved on quickly, and no one paid much attention to his reappearance. Besides Crutchie giving him a sympathetic look and Race pouting in the corner with Spot consoling him, there was no sign that anything had gone down in the apartment.

There was also no sign of Davey.

Jack frowned, heading over towards Crutchie. “Dave okay?” he asked.

“He stepped out to get some air,” Crutchie told him.

Jack nodded. He wanted to go after him, but he should probably at least try to apologize to Race first, so he headed for the corner, rather than the door. Race scowled at him as he approached, while Spot kept his expression carefully even. Jack wondered if those were his RA instincts kicking in.

Jack sighed, deciding he would try his best to remain diplomatic as well, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, Racer, I overreacted. I shouldn’t’a yelled at you.”

Race scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll say.”

Jack bit his tongue for a moment before continuing. “Y’just...shouldn’t say shit like that. But I’m sorry I yelled,” he continued quickly.

“Well, I wouldn’t’a said anything of you hadn’t’a yelled!” Race argued.

Spot sighed. “Will you just apologize for what you said next?”

“Why!?”

Spot clenched his jaw, looking to Jack, and Jack grit his teeth. He wanted to make Race sorry for what he’d said, but the only way to do that was either break his face or tell him why, and Jack wasn’t about to spill that.

Spot huffed. “It was just a shitty thing to say, Race.”

“It was shitty of Jack to yell!” Race protested.

“God, I swear I’m gonna pound your punk ass head into gravel someday,” Jack growled under his breath, and Race gestured at him emphatically, looking at Spot with pointed indignance.

“You’re a fucking idiot, and I’m sorry,” Jack snapped, turning on his heel and heading for the door before things could get even worse.

* * *

Davey didn’t even know how long he’d been on that bench, dissociating. He had been feeling so many things at once—anger, sadness, fear, hurt—and now, he wasn’t feeling anything at all. He wasn’t sure this was better.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and turned on the screen.

Jack. “ _ I’m sorry _ ”

Davey stared for a minute, not processing the message at all, before setting his phone back down in his lap. Another text buzzed in, and he picked it back up, only realizing after a second that it was face down, so he turned it over.

Jack again. “ _ Where did you go? _ ”

Davey looked up and around. The fogginess in his head was just starting to recede, and he was on a bench, in front of a building—an apartment building, by the looks of it. He was in the middle of the block, and it was pretty dark, so he couldn’t see the names of the cross streets. He knew which way he had come down this street, but he couldn’t remember if he had made any turns along the way.

He huffed, amused, and slumped back onto the bench, pressing the ‘call’ button next to Jack’s name and bringing the phone up to his ear. After only one ring, the line clicked on.

“Hey, baby,” Jack greeted him, sounding significantly calmer now.

“Hey.”

“I wanna apologize, but I dunno where you went...”

Davey giggled airily. “About that...”

Jack remained silent, waiting for him to finish. Unfortunately, the whole situation was so absurd that, when Davey opened his mouth to explain, he just started laughing, until he was doubled over on the bench, probably looking to any unfortunate passers by like he was having a psychotic break. Maybe he was.

“Baby, are you okay?” Jack asked, sounding properly worried now.

“I think I’m losing my mind,” Davey said, wiping away the tears that had sprung into his eyes. Was he laughing or crying? He didn’t know. Maybe both.

“Uh, o—okay?” Jack stammered, sounding more confused and concerned by the second. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know!” Davey laughed. “I have no fucking clue.”

There was dead quiet on the other end of the line for a second, and then Jack was talking again, quickly, almost frantically. “Okay, shit, can you share your location? Is anyone else around? You’re still outside, right?”

Davey nodded, then, after another moment of silence, remembered Jack couldn’t see him and burst out laughing again. “Yeah, I’m outside. Uh, everyone is avoiding me. I look crazy.”

“Okay, baby, I need you to try and send me your location, okay?” Jack sounded like he was struggling to keep his breathing even.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Give me a second.” Davey took the phone away from his ear and went to send his current location, accidentally ending the call in the process. “Oh, shit...” He quickly continued, successfully sending his current location to Jack.

He immediately received a text in reply. “ _ Hang on I’m coming _ ”

He leaned his head back against the cool brick wall behind him, still struggling to control what was starting to become a painful giggling and crying fit. How the actual fuck had his life come to this? He was mad at Jack, and he was mad at Race. He was even a little mad at Spot. He was  _ really _ mad at himself, in a resigned, hopeless sort of way. He also loved Jack to death, and he loved Race and Spot, and they loved him.

Oh yeah, and he had gone on a miniature fugue and was lost in Manhattan.

He was laughing again.

Finally, after not quite ten minutes, he heard the sound of running footsteps coming down the street. A shout of “Davey!” confirmed that Jack had found him. He stood up, thinking dimly that he must have looked a total mess. Jack tripped to a stop, nearly colliding with him, and caught ahold of his shoulders, panting.

“Fuck, are you okay?” asked between heavy breaths.

“Are  _ you _ okay?” Davey asked right back.

“What? I’m fine.” Jack brushed the question away dismissively. “What happened?”

Davey tossed his hands up. “I sleep-walked.”  _ Don’t laugh _ . “While awake. I awake-walked.”  _ Oops _ .

Jack, still catching his breath, was staring at him like he had two heads. “You what?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know. I’ve...cracked.”

“Davey, baby, what are you talking about?” Jack asked, voice stained with concern.

Davey wrapped his arms over Jack’s, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Jack...I don’t know where I am...or how I got here...”

“But you’re okay? Nothing happened? No one bothered you?”

“No.” Davey shook his head. “No, everyone’s been giving me a wide radius.”

“Oookay...” Jack had caught his breath by now, and his mild panic had been replaced with confusion and concern.

Davey wiped the tears out of his eyes again. “My life’s a mess. An absolute mess. I don’t know how I got here, both...physically  _ here _ and...you know.” He flopped back into the bench as his incessant laughter finally began to die down.

Jack sat down next to him, twisting his mouth in a way that was  _ almost _ a smile. “Yeah...shit’s been pretty crazy.”

“What am I supposed to do with myself?” Davey asked.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Well, we’ve already established that I’m a mess.”

Jack reached for Davey’s hand and gently laced their fingers together. “Maybe, but you got every right to be.”

“I don’t care,” Davey huffed. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

Jack huffed as well, not quite a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I hear that.”

“I didn’t sign up for a white knight either,” Davey grumbled, not meaning to say it out loud.

Jack looked over at him, surprise and a bit of hurt evident on his face.

Davey bit his lip, feeling a little contrite but way more stubborn. “I’m sorry to say it, but you started that, Jack.”

“Upstairs?” Jack clarified.

Davey nodded.

Jack twisted his mouth again, and again it wasn’t a smile. “Yeah, I mighta overreacted.”

“No, you  _ did _ overreact.”

Jack sighed shortly, moving his free hand to push his fingers through his hair. “You’re right, I did. And I’m sorry.”

Davey gently brushed his thumb over the back of Jack’s hand. He wanted to forgive him. He wanted to pretend it never happened. It was easy enough to write off what happened at Pride as self-defense. After all, it  _ was _ ; that man had gotten physical with them first. With Race, it was like...

“Zero to a hundred,” Davey said.

Jack sighed again. “He got under my skin, Dave. I don’t know what to say.”

“Well...” Davey smiled wanly. “Remind me never to get under your skin.”

“I wanna point out that I didn’t hit him, but I guess that doesn’t really count as ‘better’,” Jack replied subduedly.

“Yeah, because you would have, if Spot wasn’t in the way.”

Jack pressed his lips together tightly before mumbling, “Well, I didn’t hit Spot, either.”

Davey frowned deeply. “You really don’t think the way you handle conflict is a problem?”

Jack slumped back against the back of the bench with a rough exhale. “I know it’s a problem, Dave, I just don’t know how to fix it.” He gestured pointlessly in front of himself. “Believe it or not, this  _ is _ better than I used to be.”

Davey couldn’t understand what was so hard about not hitting people, but he didn’t have Jack’s brain. The life Jack had been through, Davey couldn’t imagine. He leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder. “I love you so much. I just want things to be better.”

Jack was quiet for a moment, then turned to drop a gentle kiss on the top of Davey’s head. “I  _ am _ sorry. For real, not just ‘cause I know I should be.”

“You know I forgive you,” Davey told him. “I always do.”

Jack just stayed quiet, and he let go of Davey’s hand, moving to put his arm around him instead.

Davey closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the city and Jack’s gentle breathing. “Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“We deserve better.”

Jack hummed. “Yeah...” he exhaled quietly. “I’m doin’ my best to get us there, someday.”

“Me, too,” Davey promised.

“Just think of it this way;” Jack continued, tracing absent patterns over the side of Davey’s shoulder with his fingers, “we’re getting all the rough stuff out of the way now, so it’ll be nothing but smooth sailing once we get ma—” He broke off abruptly and coughed, trying to cover up the rest of the word.

Davey grinned. “What was last part, Jacky? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Once we get moved on from college and everything,” Jack covered lamely.

“Oh right, right.” Davey nodded lightly, still with his head on Jack’s shoulder. “What about when we get married?”

Jack leaned away, just enough to make Davey sit up. “Would you really want to!?” he asked, looking at him with what could only be described as eager and hopeful incredulity.

Davey laughed. “I mean, not  _ right now _ ; I’m twenty and in college, but...later.” He nodded.

For a moment, Jack just stared at him like a breathless idiot, and then a smile cracked across his face, dazzlingly bright. He quickly cupped both of Davey’s cheeks in his hands, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

Davey put his hands on Jack’s waist and kissed him back sweetly. “I love you, you know that? Even when we argue, even when you piss me off. You’re my person.”

“And that’s all I ever want to be,” Jack answered.


	72. Race Is Sticky and Not for the Reason You Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! This chapter contains discussion of trauma and other uncomfortable things! I know you're all shocked. Anyway, it's short. Enjoy, or don't. I'm not your dad, I can't tell you what to do.

On Wednesday, Jack had to work all day, and Davey didn’t want to just mope around his apartment. Luckily for him, one Racetrack Higgins had a plan.

The plan was go-karts.

Davey hadn’t driven a go-kart since Les was seven, and it showed. Meanwhile, Race was definitely living up to his name, probably three laps ahead of Davey at all times. He fishtailed into the little station a good six cars ahead of Davey and unbuckled, hopping out of his car before the attendant had given the go-ahead, and was promptly shouted back into his seat. Davey shook his head, rolling his eyes fondly as he carefully parked his kart. When the attendant finally released them, he unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car, meeting Race by the exit gate.

“I think I need to bathe myself in hand sanitizer.”

“The cars aren’t  _ that _ dirty,” Race argued, clamping his hands open and shut the way one does when having come into contact with something sticky.

Davey pulled his hand sanitizer out of his pocket and offered it to Race.

Race snickered, “Thanks, Mom,” but he held his hands out anyway.

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” Davey retorted.

Race gasped, scandalized. “You can’t call me that in public; what if someone hears? Jack’ll get all jealous!” He changed bits so fast it was hard to keep up sometimes.

“Jack is already jealous that you get to spend time with me and he has to work.” Davey tucked his hand sanitizer back into his pocket as the two wandered aimlessly back towards the arcade. “Guess I’m pretty special.”

“Or Jack is a territorial dumbass,” Race replied.

“Ouch,” Davey deadpanned.

“Not saying you’re not special!” Race amended. “Just saying Jack’s an ass.”

It seemed Race hadn’t yet let go of the previous night’s shouting match.

Davey groaned. “Race...”

“I’m just sayin’!” Race held his hands up placatingly.

“Jack is protective of me—too protective, sometimes,” Davey conceded, “but he has reason to be, and I appreciate him looking out for me.”

“Well thank god he saved you from me and my pretzels,” Race huffed.

Davey sighed. “It wasn’t about  _ that _ —”

“Well what was he so mad about then?”

“I was raped, Race.” Davey even surprised himself a little bit, with that confession.

Race looked over at him, shocked. “Wait, seriously?”

Davey nodded, averting his gaze to the floor.

“Shit...” Race exhaled. “Like...recently?”

“‘Bout three months.” Davey had the day seared into his memory like a brand.

“Shit...” Race said again, moving to sit down at a picnic table nearby—one of those round ones with the weird, rubbery mesh.

Davey followed uncomfortably and sat next to him. He wrung his hands together in his lap. It had been a split second decision to tell Race, and he was regretting it. What if Race found out it was at that party? Davey didn’t want that.

“That’s why the no touching,” Race said, nodding slightly as the connection was made.

“Yeah,” Davey sighed. “That’s why the no touching...”

“Damn, I’m sorry, Dave, I had no idea.”

“I know.”

“Man, no wonder Jack got so mad, with me talkin’ outta my ass like that,” Race muttered. “I mean he’s known to fly off the handle from time to time—who can blame him, with the shit he’s been through?—but usually it takes a bit more than me being stupid.”

“You just hit a sore spot,” Davey said. “It’s not your fault.”

“Not directly, I guess, but it’s what I get for being a dumb rich white boy.”

(Bee: Let it be known that ‘white’ autocorrected to ‘whore’ and I am crying

Andy: That’s more accurate, actually)

Davey knit his eyebrows, looking up at Race. “What does that have to do with it?”

“I got no real world experience, so I just say shit.” Race shrugged.

“Race, you live in the real world.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “‘S different when you grow up with a rich daddy that’ll threaten to sue your kindergarten teacher when you get yelled at for sticking crayons in other kids ears.”

Davey raised his eyebrows. “Did that happen?”

Race snorted, more embarrassed or annoyed than amused. “Yeah.”

“Yikes,” Davey chucked dryly. “For what it’s worth, you don’t seem the type.”

Race smiled a bit wryly. “Thanks, it’s all spite.”

It was probably a dick move, but Davey jumped at the opportunity to change topic. “Jack told me your family fostered Crutchie.”

Something less than happy settled behind Race’s eyes, but he took the bait anyway. “Yeah, for a couple months, back when we were like, fourteen.”

“What were Jack and Crutchie like, back then?”

“Oh, well Crutchie was just as adorable as always, but with the usual bonus points ya get for bein’ younger.” Race chuckled. “Mom loved him. Hell, I was actually kinda jealous, with how much attention he got from her, and from Dad, too.”

“Well, that’s not even fair. He’s a human ray of sunshine,” Davey teased.

“And I’m not?” Race pouted.

“You’re more like a fever dream, to be honest.”

“Aww gee, thanks.” He smirked. “Yeah, Mom wanted to keep him. She was ready to file the adoption papers by, like, week two, but Dad said no.”

There was a part of Davey that was actually glad. Crutchie was supposed to be with Jack, not Race. Still, “It’s hard to imagine anyone saying no to Crutchie.”

Race huffed. “Yeah, it’s hard to imagine a lot of the shitty things my dad did.”

“I get the feeling you’re about to tell m—”

“So Jack told you my dad is a rich son of a bitch and used Crutchie as a publicity stunt, right?” Race interrupted.

“Um.” Davey blinked. “Yes?”

“D’he tell you it’s his fault they were homeless?”

Davey faltered, shocked, and shook his head. “No, he didn’t. How—?”

Race set his mouth in a firm, displeased line. “Well, when they got out of the system they didn’t have anywhere to go, right? So I tried to get Dad to take ‘em in—God knows the house is big enough for two more—but he said no. It was summer, so just being out wasn’t too bad for them, but it was still rough, y’know,  _ being homeless _ .”

Davey’s heart crumbled a little bit. The world had been so cruel to Jack and Crutchie. So many  _ people _ had been so cruel to Jack and Crutchie. “He wouldn’t even help his former foster son?”

Race scoffed angrily. “You mean his former PR campaign. He wouldn’t even let me give ‘em food, going on about ‘earning what you have’ and that sorta bullshit.”

“Well, your dad sounds like...quite a gem, Racer,” Davey said. Jack, Crutchie, and Race’s relationship was beginning to take a lot more sense, however. They were like family.

“Oh yeah, he’s a piece of shit.” Race smiled bitterly. “I didn’t fully appreciate it till he installed a security system in the garage, so I couldn’t even sneak them in there at night when winter rolled around.”

“Jesus.” Davey shook his head. He didn’t say exactly what he was thinking, which was ‘what a dick’.

“Yeah.” Race grimaced. “Mom is pretty cool though, so I still go back and visit, I just make sure it’s when he’s out of town. Which is like, always.”

“Still, it sucks not to have a good relationship with your family.”  _ I hope I still have one, after this weekend _ .

“I guess.” Race shrugged. “But that’s what I got you guys for, right?” He gently punched Davey in the shoulder, and a look of horror quickly spread over his face. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean— Force of habit, fuck, my bad.”

“It’s fine,” Davey assured him. “It’s not so bad, now. You can touch me, just not my hair.”

“Oh.” He looked relieved. “Okay, cool. Sorry. Why not your—? Never mind, sorry.”

Just for posterity, Davey patted Race’s knee. “Thanks, Race.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you told me,” Race offered with a smile.

“Yeah.” Davey smiled back. “Me, too.”

Surprisingly, he was.


	73. Jack Is an Evil Old Gay Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter we’ve all been waiting for.

“Do I look like the sorta guy you’d want your son to date? If you had a son who dated guys, but you didn’t know he dated guys, do I look like I’d be a less than horrifying introduction to that idea?”

Sarah, with her hands on the steering wheel, shrugged. “Well, you’re hot, so.”

Jack pouted. “Okay, not what I was really aiming for, but I guess that’s good...”

“I’d feel a lot better if my son brought home a hot boy than some ugly motherfucker.”

Davey rolled his eyes. “ _ Sarah _ .”

Jack laughed. “Okay, no, that’s a fair point.”

“No tattoos or piercings,” Sarah went on. “That I can see, anyway. You’re a college graduate, you’ve got your own apartment, you’ve got, like, eight jobs, so yeah, you’re basically a dream boy.”

Jack turned his pout towards Davey. “Why don’t you ever talk to me like that?”

“Wha—” Davey, who was sitting in the passenger's seat, turned around to face Jack. “I say nice things to you, all the time!”

“Y’ain’t said I’m a dream boy!” Jack accused, teasing. He was beyond nervous about meeting Davey’s parents, so he was pretty desperate for a distraction.

Davey rolled his eyes again and faced forward.

“So, how far is it from here to your folks’ house?” Jack asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Not much farther,” Sarah told him.

Fuck. “Cool. Are there any, like, house rules I should know about ahead of time?”

“Nah, just don’t be an asshole.”

Jack laughed. “Ah dang, I gotta rethink my whole strategy.”

They turned off the highway and into the suburbs—the privacy fence, pool in the backyard type that Jack had seen in sitcoms but never actually experienced. “Wow,” he said, looking out the window, and feeling a good bit more intimidated by how evenly all the front lawns were mowed than one would expect. “Nice neighborhood.”

“It’s a lot better than where we lived in Manhattan,” Sarah said, and Davey went on to explain.

“Dad got injured on the job and fired because of it. He ended up winning a huge lawsuit  _ and _ getting a better job out here.”

Jack nodded. “That’s great. The winning part, obviously, not the getting hurt and fired.”

“Yeah, it was a tough time,” Sarah agreed.

“I bet.” Jack nodded again. He caught a glimpse of Davey’s face in the side mirror, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “You doin’ alright, baby?” Jack asked quietly, sitting forward in his seat so he could put a hand on Davey’s shoulder.

“Huh? Yeah,” Davey replied. “Yeah, I’m just...”

Jack squeezed his shoulder sympathetically.

“It’s not too late to throw Jack out of the car,” Sarah teased.

“Hey!” Jack protested.

Sarah snickered as she pulled into a neighborhood. “It’ll be fine,” she assured Davey, and Jack nodded in agreement, even though he wasn’t so sure himself.

His discomfort only grew as they turned onto a residential street and began to slow down. It was obvious which house was Davey’s—or, rather, it was obvious which house was about to have a Fifth of July party. There were red, white, and blue ornaments and streamers all over the plants out front. “Oh wow, how...festive.”

“You should see the backyard,” Sarah deadpanned. “It looks like Uncle Sam exploded.”

Jack laughed. “Guess you guys really go all out, huh?”

“Mom does,” Davey and Sarah replied in unison.

Jack nodded. “Cool.” This would be his first proper family holiday party, and he was terrified. When Sarah parked the car, he was pretty sure his heart stopped beating.

“Well,” Davey said, looking a little pale, “let’s do this.”

Jack took a slow breath and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

They stepped out of the car and moved to get their suitcases from the trunk.

“Wow, is this what fresh air smells like?” Jack joked. It was a gorgeous day, with not a cloud in the sky.

“Yeah,” Davey chuckled. “I hope this weather stays for tomorrow.”

The distant creak of a front door could be heard, and Davey froze. Jack looked over his shoulder and saw a polite-looking, older couple coming down the path from the front door. It appeared they hadn’t seen him, yet.

“Do you want me to get outta here?” Sarah asked Davey quickly.

His reply was cut off by their mother cheerfully greeting him, “Glad to have you back, David. We’re— Oh, who’s this?”

Shit, he’d been spotted. Jack looked to Davey. Should he introduce himself? Did Davey want to say something?

Davey, for his part, looked a little like a deer in the headlights. “Jack Kelly,” he said. “This is Jack Kelly.”

Jack extended his hand towards Mrs. Jacobs. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”  _ Fuck it _ . “I’m a big fan of your work.”

Sarah snorted. Davey and his parents, on the other hand, seemed to be involved in some sort of telepathic communication via staring. Jack, feeling a bit like a goat that had just been dropped into a T-rex exhibit, held very still, painfully aware of how awkward it was that he wasn’t a girl and was still waiting for a handshake.

Slowly, and without looking away from Davey, Mrs. Jacobs took his hand. “Thank you...Jack.” A painfully forced smile stretched across her face as she finally turned to him. “Why don’t we all go inside and get settled?”

* * *

“You’ll have to forgive us,” Esther said, as she moved to sit down on the couch. “We weren’t expecting...well, to be quite honest, we weren’t expecting a boy.”

Jack smiled a tense smile. “No worries.”

“I just don’t understand,” she continued, looking back to Davey. “All this talk about ‘Kelly’, I just—” She shook her head, baffled.

Davey felt very much like he was on trial, standing in the middle of the living room while Jack had been relegated to the corner. “It just got away from me,” he confessed. “If it helps, everything else I told you is true.”

“David, what’s this about?” his father asked.

He faltered briefly. “What— What do you mean?”

“Well, this came out of nowhere! What is this—some kind of act of rebellion or...?”

“No, of course not.”

“How long have you been feeling this way?” his mother asked, like he had complained of a fever.

He would have laughed, if he wasn’t slightly distraught. “What—gay?”

She at least had the good grace not to wince as she nodded.

Davey let out a blustery exhale. “God, since I was thirteen? Fourteen, I guess?

“You never said anything,” she said, like that meant it wasn’t real. Like he hadn’t spent the entirety of high school in hiding. Like he hadn’t lost his virginity to a grown man at fifteen. Like he had been able to breathe when Sarah found out. Like he hadn’t spent the last four months preparing himself for this moment.

“No, I didn’t,” he said. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I—...I don’t know what to tell you,” he repeated.

“I’m sorry sweetie, this is just...very sudden.”

_ To you _ , Davey wanted to say, but he didn’t. He just nodded.

“You should have told us,” his mother sighed. “This puts us in a very weird position, with the whole family coming tomorrow—”

Jack took a breath like he wanted to say something, but he just frowned, and bit his tongue.

Davey sighed heavily. “I’m sorry.”

“I just wish you’d given us more time to prepare,” she said.

“For what?” Sarah’s voice came from the back of the room. She must have snuck in at some point. “For him to come out?”

“I just meant it was unexpected,” their mother backpedalled.

“So?”

“Sarah,” their father said quietly, but firmly, “be respectful.”

“You guys aren’t being very respectful of Dave!” Sarah argued. “This is a big thing! This is important! And you’re acting like it’s just an inconvenience!”

“Sarah...” Davey said softly, though he didn’t know where he was going with it. He just wanted the arguing and the accusing and everything to stop.

She held up her hands placatingly. “I’ll butt out, I’m just saying you guys should be more supportive, ‘cause this is a big thing and a  _ good thing _ .”

Their mother frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What part?” Sarah clarified.

“You think it’s  _ good _ that he’s...” Their mother gestured indistinctly at Davey.

Sarah crossed her arms, all but glaring. “I think it’s good that he’s  _ happy _ .”

“He doesn’t look very happy!”

“Well, I’m not,  _ now! _ ” Davey snapped, surprising everyone—himself included—with his volume.

Jack, who had been fuming in the corner, moved over to stand by him, and Davey glanced at him apologetically. He never should have brought him into this. His parents were right; he should have told them ahead of time. Jack offered him a tight smile, but still didn’t say anything.

“David,” Mayer began, “we love you no matter what, you know that. We’re just—”

“Disappointed,” Davey sighed. “I get it.”

“We’re just  _ surprised _ ,” his father corrected.

“Bullshit.”

His mother gasped. “David!”

“No, that’s bullshit!” Davey insisted. “I’m not being interrogated because you’re  _ surprised _ , I’m being interrogated because this isn’t what you wanted!”

She sputtered in quiet indignance as her husband frowned.

Davey began to feel tears prickling at the backs of his eyes and he took a deep breath. “Well, I’m sorry. Mom, Dad, I’m sorry I’m gay. Jack, I’m sorry I dragged you into this. Sarah...whatever. I’m sorry.”

“Davey, you haven’t done anything wrong,” Jack assured him, still quiet, even though Davey could hear anger in his voice, and Sarah shook her head in agreement.

“Exactly.” Mayer gestured towards him. “Thank you, Jack. David, you haven’t—“

“Don’t thank me, I ain’t on your side,” Jack half-chuckled, frowning.

“Jack, don’t,” Davey mumbled.

Jack pressed his lips together tightly and looked down at the ground with a tight nod, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Mayer frowned slightly, but looked back to Davey, continuing. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, David. You’re right, we are a little disappointed, but it has nothing to do with you being gay, it’s just the timing.”

“Right,” Davey replied passively.

There was quiet for a moment. Painful, awkward quiet. Then Esther spoke up. “We‘ll need to figure out sleeping arrangements.”

“I’ll sleep in Sarah’s room with her and Jack will sleep in my room,” Davey told her. They had discussed this in the car on the way home.

“Orrr, Jack and Dave could both sleep in Dave’s room, cause they’re both adults and in a relationship,” Sarah suggested entirely unhelpfully.

Of course, that had been Plan A, but it was looking awfully unlikely that Esther and Mayer were going to go for that, and indeed, they were exchanging less than enthusiastic looks at Sarah’s words.

“I like your plan, Dave,” Esther confirmed.

“Great. I’ll show Jack to my room, then,” Davey said flatly. He turned, making it about two steps towards the stairs before the front door opened and Les burst in.

“Mom, what are we doing for dinner— Oh, hey Jack!”

“Uh, hey Les,” Jack greeted, pulling a smile onto his face.

“You know Jack, Les?” Mayer asked.

“Yeah, well, not really,” Les answered. “I found out a few weeks ago, so Dave introduced us on FaceTime.”

“Oh.”

Their parents looked a little relieved. Telling Les may have been one of their concerns...which was understandable, Davey supposed, but it didn’t make him feel much better.

“Yeah, I think he’s pretty cool,” he smiled before turning a serious look to Jack, “so far.” He pointed two fingers at his own eyes, and then at Jack, in the universal ‘I’m watching you’ way.

Davey was properly horrified, and Jack looked it, so Davey quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the staircase. “Okay, off we go, then.” Jack followed willingly.

* * *

Even so little as going upstairs, just separating himself from the situation, was like a puff of air to help cool the anger bubbling under Jack’s skin. He knew Davey had been worried, but he hadn’t actually expected his parents to be so carelessly hurtful. Davey exhaled shakily, closing his bedroom door behind them and leaning his forehead against it. Jack shook his hands out as his sides, trying to let out some of the pent up energy. He’d bit his tongue nearly bloody downstairs, trying to keep quiet, but this wasn’t about him.

He went over to gently wrap his arms around Davey’s middle and pressed his mouth to the back of his shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbled quietly.

Davey choked on a quiet sob and twisted to wrap his arms around Jack’s shoulders instead. Jack held him tightly, bringing one arm up across his back to grip Davey’s shoulder, and crooned quiet, comforting nonsense. He wasn’t really paying much attention to what he was saying, much more focused on convincing himself what an absolutely terrible idea it would be to go back downstairs and yell at the parents of the boy he loved.

“I just—” Davey chuckled wetly. “I don’t know what I expected...”

“You weren’t expectin’’ anything unreasonable,” Jack assured him.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I’m sure that was super uncomfortable, and you shouldn’t have had to be there for it.”

Jack shook his head. “Wherever you go, I go.”

Davey sobbed again, squeezing Jack tighter.

Jack held on just as tight. “I’m your person, remember? That means you’re stuck with me. I love you, Davey Jacobs. And nothing, nowhere, is ever gonna change that.”

“I know,” Davey sniffled. “I love you, too.”

“And your folks are gonna have to just get used to it.”

“Yeah.” Davey pulled back, letting his hands fall to Jack’s arms. He nodded. “They are.”

* * *

For the past two years, the last Thursday (or, occasionally, Tuesday) of every month, Jack and his friends had family dinner night. It was wonderful—chaotic, loud, with good friends and good food. It was Jack’s favorite day, and he looked forward to it every time, even though it frequently resulted in a screaming match, if not an all out fight. In contrast, family dinner with the Jacobs was...quiet, though he was even more tense and apprehensive here than he had been last year in April, when Race showed up for dinner with a bottle rocket.

“So, Jack,” Mayer said at dinner, “David tells us you’re majoring in studio art?”

“Yessir,” Jack confirmed. “Well, I was. I just graduated.”

“Oh.” Mayer shared a look with his wife. “How old are you?”

_ That’s right, Mr. Jacobs, I’m an evil, old, gay man, here to corrupt your perfect son _ . “I’ll be twenty-four in a few weeks.”

Davey spoke up suddenly, indignantly. “You didn’t tell me your birthday is coming up.”

Jack looked over at him. “Uh, I guess I just forgot to mention it.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“July nineteenth,” Jack replied dutifully.

“Mine’s coming up, too!” Les said. “August fifth!”

“Heck yeah, summer babies!” Jack extended his hand for a high-five.

Les clapped his hand against Jack’s, and Davey smiled slightly. Jack shot him a quick smile in return. At least  _ some _ of Davey’s family liked him. Maybe, if he could show Esther and Mayer that he had won over all their kids, they would warm up to him faster. Then again, was he even the problem? Or was Davey’s sexuality the problem? Either way, it wasn’t  _ his _ problem, and it wasn’t Davey’s problem; it was  _ their _ problem, so  _ they _ would have to get over it.

“What are you doing, now that you’ve graduated?” Esther asked.

“I’ve got a couple jobs I’m working, till I can get myself really established in the art world.”

“Jack’s art is stunning,” Davey said. “You know that pigeon drawing on my wall? That’s his.”

“Calm down, it’s just a bunch of feathers,” Jack replied, shying away from the praise.

Sarah scoffed, “‘Just a bunch of feathers’ my ass.”

“Sarah!” Esther scolded. Jack was entirely unsurprised that this was a ‘no swearing’ household, and even less surprised that Sarah didn’t give two shits.

“He paints, too,” Davey added, flipping the attention back to Jack. “You should see his apartment—art everywhere, and it’s all his.”

Jack blushed, shrugging awkwardly. “It keeps me busy.”

“It’s  _ beautiful _ .”

Jack blushed deeper. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ like _ Davey showing him off, it was that he still wasn’t used to it, especially since the audience was Davey’s family. The only other partner who’d brought him home to their folks was Katherine, and that had gone  _ very _ badly, so there wasn’t much showing off.

Jack always had trouble accepting praise, regardless of the audience. Over the years, he’d managed to convince himself that most everything he did wasn’t actually good enough in some way or another, so any praise he got felt unearned or fake. He knew it wasn’t, especially not from Davey, but it’s hard to recondition yourself with that sort of thing.

“Do you have any pictures?” Les asked.

“Uh, not with me,” Jack admitted.

“Darn.” Les didn’t sound  _ too _ terribly disappointed. “I want to see them.

“Sorry. I can send Dave some to show you, when I go home, if you want.”

“Cool.”

It was sweet that Les was taking an interest, even if it wasn’t a very deep one. Davey seemed to be enjoying it as well. He smiled at Les in a soft, sentimental sort of way, and Jack was briefly struck by a familiar bout of jealousy. Having siblings, and a  _ real _ family… Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could have something like that with this family.

* * *

Jack barely slept that night, partially due to the new surroundings, but mostly due to nerves. A good couple of times, he ended up out of bed and pacing halfway to the door before deciding that sneaking across the hall to the other room was probably a bad look, even if it was just to talk to Davey and calm himself down. The separation felt silly, but parents are parents and rules are rules, so Jack was left to worry himself in circles on his own.

What if the extended family had a problem with the whole gay thing? What if they had a problem with him specifically? What if he slipped up and accidentally said something about one of the less pleasant areas of his past? What if Davey had a really nosy aunt who decided to Google Jack in the middle of the party and found his arrest record? There were any number of things that could go badly.

Eventually, desperate for comfort and for sleep, Jack got up again, but this time headed for the dresser instead of the door. After a cursory sweep of the drawers, he found Davey’s T-shirts, and pulled one out—if he couldn’t cuddle with Davey, he could at least cuddle with a T-shirt.

He was just settling in, thinking maybe he could finally find sleep, when he heard a gentle knock on the door. Mildly confused, he sat up, looking over towards it. “Yeah?”

It opened just a tiny bit, and Davey peeked in, looking just as tired as Jack. “Hey...”

Jack moved the covers and swung his legs out of bed, standing up to cross the room, concerned. “Hey, you alright? What’s up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Sorry if I woke you.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I can’t sleep either.”

Davey held out his arms for a hug, and Jack was more than happy to oblige. Davey wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders and sighed, leaning into him. Jack held on a little tighter, echoing his sigh. Just the simple contact between them did wonders to calm him down. Sure, all his worries were still there, but Davey was there too, and that made it better.

“Come on,” Davey murmured, letting go in favor of pulling Jack towards his bed.

Jack followed, climbing back into the bed after him. “‘S a lot comfier than your bed in the dorms,” he teased, then continued with a chuckle. “Lot comfier than  _ my _ bed, too.”

Davey cuddled up to him, tossing an arm over his chest and leaning in to kiss his lips gently. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Jack smiled gently. “I’m glad, too.”

Davey curled up with his head on Jack’s shoulder and tangled their legs together, and Jack sighed again, much more content now that Davey was there.

“I love you,” Jack said quietly.

“I love you more.”

He chuckled. “Gross.”

Davey playfully smacked his chest, then took a deep breath and quieted down again.

Jack brought his free hand up to trace idle patterns across Davey’s shoulder, quietly marveling at how lucky he was. Despite all the hardship and bullshit, he’d managed to find someone that he truly believed to be his soulmate. Jack had always been a die hard romantic, but he’d never really expected to find anything like this.

“Jack?” Davey spoke so softly, Jack wasn’t actually sure he’d said anything.

“Did’ju say something, baby?” Jack asked quietly.

“No, I’m just...nothing.”

“What’s up?”

“Um, this is weird, but...” Davey hesitated for a second. Then, “I think you could touch my hair. A little. If you wanted.”

Jack’s heart leapt, and he immediately felt silly. It was small, it was dumb, but at the same time, it  _ really _ wasn’t. This invitation to trust, to normalcy—it was small, but it was important, and it meant everything.

“Are you sure?” Jack confirmed.

Davey nodded lightly.

“D’you wanna like, put my hand where you want it? So you’re in control?”

“No, it’s okay.” He quickly added, “If you want to.”

Carefully, almost hesitantly, Jack reached up to lightly brush Davey’s hair back from his forehead with his fingertips. Davey held very still. His eyes were closed, and he exhaled softly at Jack’s touch.

“This okay?” Jack asked, continuing to lightly brush his fingers over—not through—Davey’s hair.

Davey nodded again. Jack nodded as well, and he paused to press a gentle kiss to Davey’s forehead, then kept going, careful not to get his fingers tangled. Davey tilted his head a bit, and Jack froze, until he realized Davey was leaning towards his hand and not away. He let out a quiet exhale of relief. Any step towards normalcy was beyond welcome, and this...this was huge. Davey was giving Jack something someone had used to hurt him. He was trusting Jack to keep him safe. And that? That was a lot of pressure, but it was worth it. Anything to make Davey happy was worth it.

Jack was being so careful not to disturb him that it took him a moment to realize Davey was asleep. With a small smile, he pressed another gentle kiss to his forehead and settled back down. It occurred to him that this would probably go pretty badly in the morning, if Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs found out that they had shared the bed, but in the moment, Jack was having a hard time caring. Davey was happy, and that made any future problems worth it.


	74. Davey’s Whole Ass Family Meets His Goyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esther Jacobs’ (in)famous Fourth of July party, one day late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes play...today: July 5th, 2020, in an alternate universe where the world hasn’t gone to shit. We inverted our usual fluff to angst ratio for this one. Enjoy it while it lasts. ;)

“David! David, I need you to make a new pitcher of lemonade! It’s green!”

On the bright side, any concern over Davey having a boyfriend had been put on the back burner in favor of the much more pressing issue of blue lemonade.

“Jack told you,” Davey said, running into the kitchen as his mother was pouring the green lemonade down the sink. “He told you, if you mixed yellow and blue, it was going to turn green.”

“It was worth a try. We’ll make it red, instead.”

“That’ll probably work better,” Jack confirmed, nodding.

Davey smirked. “Won’t that make it orange, Mr. Artist man?”

“Well  _ yes _ ,” Jack shot back, “but the lemonade isn’t  _ too _ yellow, so as long as ya put a lot of red in, it should be fine.”

“Magic.”

“Shut up,” Jack laughed. “It’s easier to tell folks that orange is red, anyway.”

Esther handed the empty and rinsed pitcher to Davey, because apparently Country Time tasted better when he was the one who mixed it, and he set about making a new batch.

“I have a question!” Les announced, marching in from the living room and up to Jack. “If you put blue food coloring in Tang, would the orange and blue cancel each other out and turn clear?”

“No, you’d probably just get a gross, muddy sort of color,” Jack chuckled.

Les turned to his mother. “Put Tang on the shopping list. For science.”

“Sure, sweetie,” she answered distractedly. “Could you go help your father get the tablecloths taped down in the backyard?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Davey chuckled and shook his head fondly as Les scampered out the back door.

“Cute kid.” Jack nodded after him with a quiet chuckle.

Davey grinned. He  _ loved _ that Jack liked Les. After all, Les was one of the most important things in his life. He didn’t know what he would have done if they didn’t get along.

His mother beamed the way parents always do when you compliment their children. “Do you like kids, Jack?”

Jack turned his best, most winning smile to her. “Oh yeah, absolutely love ‘em.”

“Jack takes care of four kids on weekends,” Davey said, as always trying to take the pressure of his parents off Jack. He could tell that Jack was trying to be polite and make a good impression, and he was doing a damn good acting job. No one but the Daveys and Crutchies and Races of the world ever would have seen through it.

“Wow!” Esther laughed in that airy, impressed sort of way. “And I thought three were quite a handful.”

“Nah, they’re great,” Jack replied with a light chuckle.

“How old?” Esther asked, and Jack happily launched into a brief description of the Larkin kids.

Davey listened, still smiling, while he stirred up more lemonade. He already knew all about the Larkin kids, of course, but he still liked listening to Jack talk. When Jack got really into something, whether upset or excited, his New York accent came out and his grammar started to slip. In this case, he was definitely watching his grammar, but his accent still came out, and it was adorable.

“Did you have any experience with kids before this?” Esther asked. “Any siblings or anything? It seems like a lot to take on.”

“I’ve got my younger brother, Cru— Charlie,” Jack corrected himself quickly, “and I did a lot of,” he cleared his throat, “babysitting sorta stuff growing up.”

Davey got the feeling most of his ‘babysitting’ experience was just looking out for himself and other kids in shitty group and foster homes, but he wasn’t about to call Jack out for lying in front of his mother.

“Well, I’m very impressed,” Esther said.

Jack smiled in an accepting, dismissive sort of way. “Nah, it’s all in a day’s work.”

“What about your family? You mentioned your brother.”

Davey pressed his lips together and glanced up at Jack, a quiet ‘I’m here, I’ll save you’. He knew Jack wouldn’t want to talk about that.

But Jack’s attention was focused on Mrs. Jacobs. “Well, Mrs. Jacobs, I don’t really have a family.”

Davey’s mouth was already open, ready to butt in and offer a distraction, but whatever nonsense he was about to utter dissipated in his mouth as Jack told the truth. Davey didn’t like to think of Jack as a liar, but he hadn’t been expecting the actual truth.

There was a sort of tenseness to Jack, like he was ready to run, but his voice remained casual as he continued. “I grew up in the foster system. Charlie an’ me aren’t technically blood related, but he’s as much as I got, by way of family, so I call him my brother.”

Esther blinked a couple times. “Oh...”

“Yeah...”

Jack pretty clearly had no idea what to say next, so Davey took the opportunity to step in. “Mom, the lemonade’s ready for color.”

She looked over at the pitcher in his hands, then offered Jack an uncomfortable smile before turning her attention to Davey. “Right, let me grab the food coloring.”

When she turned around, Davey looked at Jack with his eyebrows raised in an ‘are you okay?’ sort of way. Jack let out a small, rough exhale, and widened his eyes for a moment, but didn’t give a proper answer. Davey made a mental note to give him a hug as soon as possible.

Mrs. Jacobs returned from the cupboard with the box of food coloring in hand, and Jack quickly pulled a smile back onto his face.

“David, Jack, why don’t you two make one last sweep of the house to make sure everything is clean?” Esther suggested as she began to drip food coloring into the lemonade.

“You got it, Mrs. Jacobs,” Jack confirmed, and he all but fled the room.

Davey followed. “Hey, you okay?” he asked quietly.

Jack let out a slow, heavy exhale. “Yeah, yeah I’m good, that was just...”

“A lot?”

“Yeah,” it was more of an exhale than a word, and he nodded again.

Davey hugged him. “You’re doing great, love.”

Jack wrapped his arms around Davey gratefully.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Davey assured him. “I promise. I—”

The doorbell rang.

* * *

Jack looked over towards the door, feeling more apprehensive than he’d felt in a long time.

It was just a party, with new people, that’s all. Jack was  _ great _ at parties with new people. He could walk into a room full of fifty strangers, and walk back out with forty-eight new friends (or at least fans). There were always bound to be a select few who didn’t fall for his carefully crafted charms, but what can ya do? But this wasn’t  _ just  _ a party with strangers. This was Davey’s family. It actually  _ mattered _ what these people thought of him.

“David?” Esther called from the other room, “Will you get the door, please?”

“Yes, Mom!” Davey made his way over to the door and opened it to reveal a man who appeared to be in his fifties or so, plus two men and a woman who looked to be around Davey and Jack’s age.

“Hi, David!” The older man pulled Davey into a quick hug. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m great, Nathan. Hey, guys.” He waved to the two younger men.

“Hey,” one of them responded with a nod.

Jack hung back, further in the living room. It felt very strange, waiting to be noticed, rather than going up and making it happen right away, but it felt like the right move.

Davey glanced back at him a moment later. “Um, Jack, this is my uncle, Nathan, my cousins, Elijah and Malachi, and Eli’s girlfriend, Mackenzie. Everyone, this is...” he hesitated for a split second, “my boyfriend, Jack.”

His cousins shared a brief glance, and his uncle’s eyebrows went up slightly, but overall, there was very little reaction to this revelation.

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” Nathan said, waving.

Jack smiled in return, and nodded upwards in that guyish greeting that guys do. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Esther’s brother,” Nathan further explained, then turned back to Davey. “Speaking of, where is my sister? I have something to tell her.”

“In the kitchen.” Davey gestured that way.

Nathan disappeared in the way directed, casting Jack another smile as he passed. Jack moved over towards Davey to properly meet the other two. The cousins looked a lot alike, but certainly not twins. One had much lighter hair and was slightly shorter, though he appeared to be older. He smiled at Jack. “So, someone finally got David out of the house?” he teased, lightly bopping Davey’s shoulder with his fist.

Davey rolled his eyes, and Jack grinned.

“Yeah, I figured out pretty quick that if you get him talking about biodiversity, he’ll go pretty much anywhere.”

“Oh my god,” the other cousin groaned. “Did he, like, seduce you with seals?”

“Shut up, Malachi,” Davey huffed.

Jack laughed. “I’m not sure ‘seduce’ is the right word, but there were definitely seals—sea lions, actually.”

“See?” Davey pouted. “ _ He _ knows the difference.”

“Anything for you, Dave,” Jack teased.

The second, darker-haired cousin—shit, Jack had already forgotten his name, and Davey had just said it—made a gagging noise, and Davey rolled his eyes again.

“You’re just jealous no one loves you enough to learn the difference between seals and sea lions. Come on.” He ushered them inside. “Nice to see you again, Mackenzie.”

At this point, Les came in from the backyard to say hello to everyone, and Jack was granted a brief respite in the wake of his distraction. Davey pulled him over to a corner of the living room.

“Are you doing alright?”

Jack nodded quickly. “Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.” Davey nodded as well. “Eli and Malachi are cool. I think you might like them better than me.”

_ Eli and Malachi, right _ . Jack chuckled. “Don’t be dumb; I like you better than anything.”

Davey smiled, but the doorbell rang again before he could respond. Esther called from the other room again, “David?”

“On it,” he called back, returning to the door and opening it again.

This time, a family of four—five? The mom looked sort of pregnant, in that ‘don’t say anything just in case’ way—stepped in. They exchanged all the usual pleasantries with Davey, then the two little boys took off towards the back door.

“Jack, this is my cousin, Levi, and his wife, Hannah,” Davey explained. He gestured in the direction the boys had run, “Owen and Sebastian,” then vaguely towards Hannah’s stomach, “lucky number three.”

Jack nodded. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Jack,” Davey introduced him. “Boyfriend. Mine.” He cringed at himself, but it was kinda cute.

Jack laughed lightly at his phrasing, trying to ignore the evident surprise from Hannah and Levi.

After a moment, though, Levi snapped out of it, and he laughed. “Nonono, sorry, that’s great, just never thought this kid was going to start dating.” He winked at David, who blushed.

Jack chuckled. “Well, he made me work for it, for sure, but I got him.”

“Jack...” Davey whined, in a ‘you’re embarrassing me’ way.

Jack, in turn, put a hand on his chest, like he was insulted. “I’m sorry, are you sayin’ I  _ didn’t _ work for it? I drew you a pigeon!”

Davey just shook his head. “Come on—the party’s out back.”

* * *

Not everyone had even arrived yet, and Jack was already floundering with names. They all seemed very nice, though—everyone was clearly surprised by the whole gay thing, but they were doing a good job playing it off. Jack was amused they had all gone the route of ‘never thought Dave would date’, almost like they’d planned it. Esther’s parents, who refused to tell Jack their names and insisted he call them Grandma and Grandpa ‘like all the other kids’, were a pleasant surprise. Aunt Ruth seemed a little put off, but hey, you win some and you lose some. She wasn’t any worse than Mayer and Esther had been, the night before Jack figured, if he won over at least the majority of the family, those were points in his favor.

“So, this is basically my mom’s whole family,” Davey told him, gesturing widely.

Jack made a mental tally of the grandparents, the aunt, the uncle, three cousins, one cousin’s wife and two kids, one cousin’s girlfriend, and of course the Jacobses themselves.

Davey continued, “My Bubbe and uncle Gideon from my dad’s side will be here soon...”

“Your what?” Jack asked.

“Oh—Grandmother, but Jewish,” Davey answered. “I mean, Grandma and Grandpa are Jewish, too, but way less traditional.”

“Oh, gotcha, sorry.”

“It’s not—” Davey made a face. “Don’t be sorry, silly.”

“I just don’t wanna mess up,” Jack explained.

“Just be yourself! You’re not messing up.”

Almost on cue, an older man and an even older woman made their way into the back yard with Esther and headed right over to Jack and Davey.

“This is David’s boyfriend Jack,” Esther explained quickly.

The man smiled brightly and perhaps a little smugly, like he knew Davey was gay all along. He shook Jack’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Jack.”

Jack smiled in return. “Hi, nice to meet you...?”

“I’m David’s uncle Gideon.”

“Well, any uncle of Dave’s is a friend of mine,” Jack joked.

“And Jack, this is Bubbe Jacobs, my dad’s mom,” Davey added quietly, gesturing to the older woman.

“This is your boyfriend?” Bubbe Jacobs asked, glaring daggers at Jack, and Davey nodded.

Jack got the distinct feeling that if Bubbe Jacobs didn’t accept him, he was done for, so he cast her one of his best smiles—the one specifically made for little old ladies, that had gotten him many a free lunch or cup of coffee in the past. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

She quirked an eyebrow and turned that judgmental gaze onto Davey. As she inhaled, Jack braced himself for the inevitable. He supposed there was one in every family.

“He doesn’t look very Jewish.”

Jack blinked. That wasn’t at  _ all _ the complaint he’d expected.

“He’s not Jewish, Bubbe,” Davey sighed.

She frowned, clearly displeased, and Jack wondered if telling her he wasn’t much of anything, faith wise, would help or hurt.

“Well...” Davey smiled awkwardly. “Now, you’ve met everybody!”

“Great.” Jack smiled in return. Now he just had to keep straight who was who.

* * *

One of these days, Davey would stop thinking he couldn’t be any more in love with Jack, because Jack kept proving him wrong. Davey knew the party was chaos, and his family was overwhelming, and Bubbe Jacobs kept passive-aggressively referring to Jack as ‘David’s goyfriend’—which was absolutely hilarious to just about everyone, mind you—but Jack was trying. He was trying so hard. The final straw was when little Sebastian mentioned Star Wars and Jack jumped right on it, calling him ‘Padawan’ and teaching him some lightsaber moves with sticks that had fallen off the backyard tree. Davey basically melted into a puddle of goo.

Naturally, the ‘lesson’ quickly devolved into a lightsaber fight, which Jack lost, putting up enough effort to make Sebastian feel like he actually won. Jack proceeded to grant Sebastian a seat on the Jedi council  _ and _ the rank of Master—“I won’t make the same mistakes as my ancestors!”—all the while assuring him that he had brought balance to the force and there was no need for further conflict.

Levi chuckled, “You’ve got yourself a good nerd there, Dave.”

Davey grinned stupidly. “Yeah, I know.”

“So how long have you two been...?” Leci gestured vaguely between Jack and Davey.

“About four months now,” Davey told him. “Officially, anyway.”

Levi nodded. “He seems like a good kid.”

“He is.”

“You think he’s a keeper, then?”

Davey blushed. It was one thing to confess to Jack’s friends that he was in it for the long haul after only four months. It was another thing entirely to admit it to his family. He nodded anyway.

Thankfully, Levi smiled. “Well I’d hope so, if you’re gonna put him through meeting the whole family.”

Davey smiled back. “It was Mom’s idea. Of course, I told her I was dating, not that he’s a guy...”

“Oh really?” Levi seemed surprised at the prospect of Davey keeping a secret.

“Yeah...” Davey laughed nervously. “Yesterday was a bit of a shit show.”

Levi chuckled, “Oh, I bet.”

“It was stupid. I should have said something years ago.”

He shrugged. “Mighta been easier that way; who knows?”

Just then, Jack came over, having managed to escape from Sebastian. “I’m very impressed,” Levi told him. “It’s hard to keep his attention for more than five minutes.”

Jack laughed, pulling on that bright, performative smile of his. “I’m just happy to find a worthy opponent.”

“Do you need something to drink, babe?” Davey asked. “You look tired.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to checking out that red lemonade,” he teased.

Davey nodded towards the designated snack table and started that way, with Jack following right behind. He fell into step beside Davey, and caught his hand, lacing their fingers together.

Davey smiled. “I love you.”

Jack’s face lit up. “I love you, too.”

“Do you need a break? We can always go inside for a bit.”

He hesitated for a second before asking. “Is that okay? I don’t wanna take you away from the party or whatever.”

If Jack got any sweeter, Davey was actually going to die—just drop dead like a bird that got hit by a plane. “Jacky, you  _ know _ me. You think I don’t need breaks from this chaos?”

Jack laughed lightly. “Alright, let’s go hide.”

* * *

“Okay, be honest...” Jack scratched nervously at the comforter on Davey’s bed. “Am I doing okay? You know, family’s not really my thing, an’ I—”

He was cut off as Davey laughed. “Jack, the only way you could be a bigger hit with my family is if you were Jewish.”

Jack smiled, stopping just short of saying ‘or if I was a girl’ and instead going with, “Okay good.”

“Do you, um...” Davey paused, “like them?”

“What, your family?” Jack asked, like an idiot. “Yeah, they’re great.”

“I know they’re a lot.”

“I’m just not used to them yet,” he assured him, hoping he’d get to stick around long enough to get used to them.

Davey smiled. “Well, you’ve won Sebastian over, and Levi and Hannah by extension,” he said. “You’re better at family than you think.”

Jack chuckled. “I guess three’s a pretty good start.”

“You have more than three,” Davey reminded him. “There’s me, Sarah, and Les. There’s...basically everyone except Bubbe, who’s just mad you’re a goy, and Aunt Ruth, who doesn’t like anyone.”

Jack chuckled, putting on more confidence than he actually felt. “I bet I can win them over, I just need more time.”

“I know you can.” Davey placed a hand on Jack’s cheek and leaned in to kiss him.

Jack kissed him back, happy for the affection, but at the same time hyper aware that they were in Davey’s room in his parents’ house, and hoping that that wasn’t weird for him for some reason. Was that a thing that was weird in nuclear families? He didn’t know.

Davey pulled away. “Is...that okay? I didn’t ask.”

Jack nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah of course. You don’t need to ask me, it’s always okay.”

“I figured.”

“Can  _ I _ kiss  _ you? _ ” Jack asked, smiling.

“You don’t have to ask either,” Davey told him.

Jack frowned slightly, surprised and a bit skeptical. “Really?”

“Really.”

Jack smiled softly. First the hair touching, and now this—being home must have been doing Davey some serious good. Jack knew Davey trusted him, of course, but it was nice to have that trust affirmed, and he was going to make damn sure that he deserved it.

“So, are you gonna do it, or are you just gonna keep smiling at me like that?” Davey asked.

Jack rolled his eyes, still smiling, and placed his hand on the back of Davey’s neck, gently pulling him in for a kiss. He could feel the corners of Davey’s lips curve upwards in a hint of a smile as he kissed back. After another moment, Jack tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss. Careful not to go too far, but wanting something real. Luckily, Davey didn’t seem to mind. As far as Jack pushed, he pushed right back, wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist and holding him close. It felt like Davey wanted him, the way he used to, and god it was a good feeling, and god did Jack want  _ him _ . After a minute he had to remind himself not to push his luck and ruin what progress they had made—or more what progress had blessedly fallen out of the sky. Plus, Davey’s entire family was downstairs, and someone was bound to come looking for them eventually. Jack certainly didn’t want someone to walk in on them making out, or worse, on a meltdown he had accidentally triggered.

Eventually, they broke apart naturally, and Davey smiled at Jack like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“I love you.” Jack told him, and he really did. Stupidly and completely. He loved him more than he even knew he could.

“I know you do, Jacky,” Davey chuckled. “You wouldn’t be sticking around the Fifth of July party if you didn’t.”

* * *

To her credit, Bubbe Jacobs waited for Jack to go to the bathroom before trying to set Davey up with nice Jewish boys from her synagogue. He had no idea why she had pictures of these boys on the smartphone she barely knew how to use—scratch that. Sarah. She probably had them for Sarah. Anyway, they were there, and Davey had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as she scrolled through them all.

“I don’t see why you couldn’t find yourself a nice, Jewish boy,” Bubbe scolded. “It’s not like they’re in short supply.”

“I probably could, Bubbe, but I want to be with Jack,” Davey explained.

She went on as if he hadn’t said anything. “You remember Isaac, who went to camp with you? Two weeks ago, his parents found out that he likes boys, too. It’s perfect timing.”

“Well, good for him, Bubbe, but Isaac stole and froze my underwear three of the six nights we were at camp.”

“Maybe that means he liked you! You know how boys are...”

Davey sputtered for a moment. “Just—... _ no _ .”

“Well, you never know,” she humphed.

“Yeah, boys will be boys, David,” Sarah teased on her way by, dripping with sarcasm, and Davey shot an irritated look at her.

“There’s a new family.” Bubbe was still going. “I don’t think you’ve met them, since you’ve been at school, but they have a son about your age. I’m not sure if he likes boys, but there’s always a chance...”

“There is always a chance,” Davey conceded, nodded, “but I love Jack.”

“Well, things can change.”

“This won’t.”

She hummed, and she didn’t argue, but she didn’t seem too convinced, either. It didn’t matter. Davey was, and she would be.

Luckily, she only managed to get through another two eligible bachelors who may or may not like boys before Jack returned. Davey reached out to him, smiling softly, and Jack moved to his side like he was pulled by a magnet, reaching to lace their fingers together with an easy smile. Bubbe pressed her lips together in that very judgy way old ladies do, but made no comment, and Jack either didn’t notice, or didn’t say anything.

Davey looked from him to Bubbe and back, floundering for a topic before landing helplessly on, “Did you know that the walrus is the only living species in the family Odobenidae?”

They both looked at him blankly.

“It—it is,” he told them.

“That’s really cool, babe,” Jack assured him in the voice reserved especially for the occasions when someone you love very much has said something not at all cool.

“Right, well...” Davey shrugged. “I prefer the diversity in the family Otariidae, anyway...” Okay, it was time to stop talking.

Jack chuckled. “Yeah okay, nerd.”

“Oh my god, is he talking about seals again!?” Elijah called across the yard, and Davey groaned.

Jack burst into proper laughter. “I didn’t realize it was that regular of an occurrence.”

“Well, you must not have been around very long, dear,” Bubbe clucked, patting Jack on the shoulder as she started away.

Davey hoped Jack wouldn’t take offense to that. He knew Bubbe didn’t mean any harm. Hell, it seemed like she actually liked Jack, just not for Davey. Jack smiled an only slightly pained smile—even Davey almost didn’t notice.

“She’s trying to be funny,” Davey assured him, once Bubbe was out of earshot.

Jack frowned dismissively and shook his head. “Don’ worry about it.”

“I owe you so much for this.”

“Ehh,” Jack shrugged, lifting an arm to drop it across Davey’s shoulders, “just marry me, an’ we’ll call it even.”

Davey laughed—very much an audible representation of the bubbly feeling he got in his chest when Jack said that. “I can probably make that happen, someday.”

“Well good, cause otherwise I dunno what I’m still doin’ here,” Jack teased.

“Rude!” Sarah shouted from somewhere in the crowd nearby.

“Ah!” Jack cried out, as if his memory had just been loudly and theatrically jogged. “Of course, I’m here for Sarah, silly me.” He removed his arm from Davey’s shoulders. “Excuse me, my purpose in life is calling.”

Sarah shoved her way through a school of cousins and threw herself into Jack’s arms. “I knew you’d realize you’ve had the wrong twin all along!”

“Of course you’re right, and I’m a fool,” Jack agreed, maintaining volume for his unwitting audience, whether they appreciated it or not.

“Fine,” Davey sighed dramatically. Three could play at that game. “I guess I’ll go tell Bubbe to call up one of those nice Jewish boys from the synagogue.”

Jack raised an eyebrow slightly, evidently not willing to be the first to fold, and looked to Sarah. “See? This is what I get for accepting my destiny.”

Rolling his eyes, Davey started off towards where Bubbe had gone. “Hey, Bubbe?”

As he walked away, he could still easily hear Jack—now fully committed to the bit—giving Sarah a run down of what she’d need to know as his New and Official Girlfriend. Davey pretended not to be a little annoyed, instead throwing himself into a hushed conversation with Bubbe Jacobs about quiche recipes. It was well known far and wide that Bubbe Jacobs made a mean kosher quiche.

* * *

“Didn’t you hear, Michael? I’m with the  _ right _ twin, now. Can’t believe I mixed it up,” Jack offered with a shit eating grin, in answer to Davey’s cousin questioning why he was now walking around with his arm around Sarah’s shoulders instead of Davey’s.

Michael blinked a couple times, while Sarah tried desperately to hold in her laughter. “Well, first of all,” Michael began, “my name’s actually Malachi.”

“Ah shit,” Jack muttered, not really worried about swearing around the cousins, especially with Sarah as his copilot. “Sorry. Malachi, got it.”

“Yeah, no problem,  _ Jake _ .” This was clearly an intentional slip on Malachi’s part, delivered with a smirk and everything.

Jack grinned in return. “I use the old English pronunciation, actually.”

Malachi scrunched up his face. “Oh wow, nerd. I’m not sure you’re with the right twin, after all.”

Jack laughed. “See that’s what I thought, too, but I’ve been wrong before, isn’t that right dear?” He turned a theatrically doting smile towards Sarah.

“That’s right, honey bunches,” she replied, pinching his cheek.

Jack beamed, twisting it into a bit of a cringe. “If this ain’t real romance, I sure don’t know what is.”

Malachi snorted, and he and Sarah spoke in unison. “Gross.”

Jack laughed, and followed as Sarah dragged him away towards the food table. “Come on, I want a cupcake.”

“Sure, sure,” Jack agreed, trailing along with her. Roaming the party with Sarah was fun, but it had been a couple minutes, and Davey hadn’t come back yet. Of course, Jack didn’t want to admit being whipped to the point of missing him after only a few minutes, but he  _ was _ there to be with Davey—and, granted, to meet his family, but mostly to be with Davey.

“So Jack,” Sarah began, nodding towards the back door of the house as she unceremoniously ate just the icing off her cupcake, “been wanting to talk to you.”

“What’s up?” Jack asked, heading with her towards the house.

“Come with me.” She led him inside and into the living room, then made a quick visual sweep of the entire downstairs, checking around corners and such.

“What—are we plannin’ a heist or somethin’?” Jack chuckled, watching her.

“More of an interrogation.” Apparently content that the house was currently empty except for them, she turned back to Jack. “You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong with my brother, because he won’t, and I’m worried about him.”

Jack blinked, surprised. Well shit. “Uh, what d’you mean?”

She lowered her voice. “Jack, David is my  _ twin _ ; I  _ know _ him. He’s high-strung and maybe a little stuck-up, sometimes. He’s not  _ paranoid _ .”

“I— Well yeah, no, sure,” Jack struggled. He considered flat out lying, but Sarah had caught him off guard and at this point was likely to notice, but he wasn’t about to go and tell her what actually happened. That was Davey’s choice, not his.

“So what the fuck, Jack?” Sarah asked. “I’m serious. If you know something, or I swear to God, if you  _ did _ something—”

“Woah!” A spark of anger flared up at her accusation, but Jack kicked it aside. “You really think I’d  _ ever _ do anything to hurt Davey!? No.” Jack sighed, he had to tell her  _ something _ . “Dave’s old roommates were real pieces of shit, and they got real aggressive with him once they found out he’s gay, so things were pretty rough for him for awhile.”

Sarah didn’t believe him. He could see it all over her face. She saw right through him. “Things have been pretty rough for Dave, before,” she said tightly. “He bounces back.”

“Sarah, it really ain’t my place to tell,” Jack attempted.

“I’m his  _ sister _ , Jack!”

“And I’m his boyfriend! Neither of us gets a free pass on what he doesn’t want to share!” Jack insisted.

Sarah was equally insistent. “You’re going back to Manhattan tomorrow! You won’t be here to protect him! I need to know what’s going on!”

Jack felt a little twinge in his gut at her words. She was right, he wouldn’t be here, but this was Davey’s home.  _ Surely _ he didn’t need protecting in his own house? “Sarah,” Jack sighed, trying to ignore the rising feeling of alarm in the back of his head. “I’m sorry. If he doesn’t want people to know, it ain’t my place to tell.”

“And what if something happens to him?”

Jack grit his teeth. Nothing was gonna happen. Davey was fine. “I’m not gonna break his trust, Sarah.”

“And  _ I’m _ not going to sit here and do nothing,” Sarah shot back. “Jack,  _ please _ . I’m really worried.”

Jack twisted his hands unhappily. “I can’t just say what he don’t want me to. It was bad, okay? It was real bad. But it’s better, and he don’t want to talk about it, so I can’t just—”

“Better than  _ what!? _ ”

Jack gestured helplessly. “Better than it was before. I know what you want me to say, Sarah, but I ain’t doin’ it. It’s Davey’s business.”

“His business  _ is _ our business,” she argued.

Jack shook his head firmly. “It don’t work like that.”

“Of course it does; you’re just more scared of losing him than you are of the fact that he’s not okay.”

“Wh— This ain’t about losing him,” Jack sputtered. “This is about respectin’ his boundaries! If he wanted you to know, you’d know.”

“That’s what’s scaring me, Jack! He tells me everything!”

Jack sighed heavily, dragging his hand down his face. “Then I definitely ain’t gonna be the one tellin’ ya.”

There was a heavy pause. Sarah looked upset, and Jack understood; she was worried about Davey. God, he really did understand that. Still, he didn’t even think he  _ could _ tell her what happened, if he tried. His mouth would open, and nothing would come out.

“Then promise me something,” she said, and he nodded. “Promise you’ll be there for him, no matter what. If I can’t be, I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing, you’ll be there.”

He nodded again, more firmly this time. “Always.”

“Promise,” she insisted. “Swear on your life.”

Jack put a hand over his heart. “On my life, and whatever’s more important, I’ll be there.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Believe me, Sarah, I’m sure you’re terrifying, but if I fuck up, your wrath is the least of my concerns.” Jack ran a hand fitfully through his hair, feeling very off balance, and weirdly jumpy. “Speaking of ‘being there’, I’m actually gonna go find Dave, now.” He made a break for the backyard, making it as far as the kitchen before Sarah spoke up again.

“Jack.”

He stopped, one hand on the sliding door, and turned to look at her.

“David really loves you,” she said.

Jack smiled tightly, unable to shake that sick, uneasy feeling in his stomach — he’d feel better once he had eyes on Davey. “For what it’s worth, I really love him, too.”

“I know.”

Jack slid the door open, and ducked outside, looking around quickly for Davey.

He wasn’t where Jack had last seen him, standing in the shade beneath the tree with Bubbe Jacobs., and Jack felt a little twist of completely unnecessary fear in his gut. It was fine, he was fine, everything was fine. He was just a bit rattled from the conversation with Sarah. He headed further into the yard, scanning the crowd of Jacobses for  _ his _ Jacobs.

It took about two minutes of increasingly worried searching for Jack to realize Davey wasn’t there, and only when Mrs. Jacobs asked him if he was feeling alright did it occur to him to ask where he had gone.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jack answered her concern quickly. “I’m just looking for Dave?”

“I think he and the other boys went out in the front.”

He nodded. “Right, thank you, I’m just gonna—” With a vague gesture over his shoulder, he quickly headed around the house to the front yard.

Davey was there, thank god, sitting in a circle in the grass with the cousins that were close to his age, one of whom was not named Michael, and the other one’s girlfriend. Not-Michael said something, poking at Davey, and Davey laughed, smacking his hand away. They looked relaxed. Davey obviously didn’t care if these guys touched him. Jack let out a slow breath, pausing to steady himself before he walked over to join them.

Davey raised an eyebrow when he saw him. “Oh, is there trouble in paradise? Did you finally get bored of the right twin?”

With the interrogation, Jack had forgotten about the whole twin swapping game. “Oh, yeah. She doesn’t think I’m pretty like you do,” he covered quickly, moving to sit down next to Davey.

Davey sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Well, I’d say she’s blind, but I’m the one who wears contacts.”

Jack laughed, maybe half a beat later than he should have.

Davey reached out and made a grabby motion with his hand., and Jack scooted closer, catching Davey’s hand in his obediently. It was strange; to him, Davey seemed so  _ normal _ . Either it was an illusion from him having seen Davey so low, or Sarah was seeing something he wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Sarah was Davey’s twin, after all. Of course, she knew him better than anybody.

“So, what are we talkin’ about?” Jack asked, wanting to distract himself.

“Sports,” the slightly older and shorter cousin said, “and Dave’s not getting it.”

“Oh,” Jack brightened minutely. “I know a very little bit about football.”

Not-Michael snickered. “Not a sports boy, either?”

Jack shrugged. “Yeah, two a’ my kids—the kids I nanny, I mean—do football, so I learned a bit, but not much.”

“He’s an art boy,” Davey said.

“Oh yeah?” the slightly older and shorter cousin—was it Ethan?—asked. “What sorta art?”

“Mostly painting, but I’ll do pretty much anything.”

“Well, are you any good?” Not-Michael asked.

“I just got a degree for it, so I sure hope so,” Jack laughed.

“He’s very good,” Davey confirmed, looking all cute and proud of him. “His sketches look like pictures.”

“Only when I  _ really _ try.” Jack insisted—partially to be modest and partially to reinforce to Davey that he was worth effort. That dumb pigeon was some of the best work he’d ever done.

Davey apparently got the picture, because he blushed a little bit and leaned down, mushing his cheek against Jack’s shoulder.

Jack smiled happily, feeling much more at ease now that he had Davey there.

* * *

For Jack, growing up, the Fourth of July meant kinda gross hot dogs and sparklers in the little yard behind the group home. Without fail, it always ended in a fight, when the mean, older kids tried to take the younger kids’ sparklers and Jack stepped in. The first few years, he just got his ass kicked, but as he got older and tougher, it became an easier time, until eventually it stopped altogether, because he could whip anyone who stepped up.

Fourth of July with the Jacobses was entirely different. There were still hot dogs and sparklers, but there was also family, and an actual sense of togetherness and happiness. The oldest cousin, the one with a family, was down with his two boys, helping the six-year-old hold his sparkler without being burned. In the low light, when he smiled, he and Davey looked alike, and Jack found himself wondering about what sort of a father Davey would be. Of course there wasn’t really a way for their kids to look like them, which was a damn shame, but even so. He imagined Davey would be as a father the way he was as a person—steady, selfless, always right. He chuckled to himself. Married life with Davey Jacobs… The thought stirred a little bloom of warmth in Jack’s chest, and it occurred to him—not for the first to him—how desperately he wanted that. He wanted to spend every minute of the rest of his life with him. He wanted the late nights and the early mornings, the talks over dinner about how their days went, the kids and the family reunions, but more than that, he wanted the meltdowns, the inevitable arguments, the bad days. He wanted all of it. He wanted  _ Davey _ and everything else that came with him.

“You’re thinking again.” Speaking of Davey, he appeared at Jack’s side, holding two sparklers and a lighter.

“Yeah, I really need to stop doing that,” Jack chuckled, feeling a wide, helpless, adoring smile spread across his face.

Davey handed him a sparkler. “Okay, fair warning—these are from a box Les says he picked out especially for us. I don’t know what that means, so be careful.

“Oh god, get ready to lose all your fingers,” Jack snickered, holding his sparkler out to be lit anyway.

Davey flicked open the lighter and lit both sparklers together, watching intensely to see what happened. After a moment, they lit up, spitting multicolored starbursts, and Jack laughed.

“Oh my god they’re rainbow.”

Davey shook his head fondly as he tucked the lighter into his back pocket. “Tell Crutchie to step it up; Les is winning the little brother Olympics.”

“Hey, you weren’t around for last Fourth of July; he saved my life,” Jack retorted.

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded sagely. “Race had bottle rockets.”

“Of course he did.” Davey smiled mischievously. “But, if you tell Crutchie Les is winning, I bet he’ll make you rainbow food.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Oh da—ng.” He quickly switched the ending of his word to avoid swearing in front of Davey’s parents, who were just a few feet away. “You’re probably right.”

“I usually am.”

Jack chuckled again. “Of course dear.”

Their sparklers burned out. Davey took them to the trash and grabbed a couple more from Les on his way back over. Just like before, he handed one to Jack, then lit them both, smiling as they exploded into multicolor light in the dusk. He began to draw little shapes in the air in front of them. Pretty quickly, Jack found himself entirely distracted from his own sparkler, stuck looking at Davey, instead.

He looked...beautiful.

The little smile on his lips, the way his face was lit up by the dazzling, sputtering light of the sparkler, and the way the sparks themselves reflected in his eyes. He was absolutely beautiful.

Jack didn’t even notice that his sparkler was almost out until it burnt his fingers, and he hissed, dropping it reflexively as he startled back into focus.

Davey glanced up at him, startled by his reaction, then laughed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah fine, burnt myself,” Jack muttered, blushing a tiny bit and shaking out his burnt hand.

Davey caught ahold of it and kissed it gently, and Jack felt his heart leap in his chest. It was stupid;!they’d been together for months, little things like that shouldn’t shake him anymore, but dear  _ god _ was he in love with this man.

A smile slowly spread across Davey’s face. “What?”

“I just... _ really _ love you,” Jack replied.

Davey’s sparkler fizzled out, and he tossed it to the ground on top of Jack’s. “I really love you, too.”

“Thanks for bringing me to meet your family,” Jack said, lacing their fingers together. “This is really fun.”

“Thank you for being here,” Davey replied.

“Of course, I’d go anywhere with you.”

“We’ll go to New Mexico someday, alright?”

Jack smiled so wide he was surprised his face didn’t crack. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

All of a sudden, he noticed how close together they had drifted, close enough that he could just barely feel Davey’s breath on his face. Davey seemed to notice it, too. After the briefest moment of what looked like consideration, Davey kissed him sweetly, and Jack practically melted. He was always happy to be kissed—especially and specifically by Davey—and the fact that he was willing to do so in front of his mildly disapproving family meant the world to Jack. It only lasted a few seconds, but the warmth in Jack’s chest stayed long after they had broken apart.

“Happy Fifth of July, Jacky,” Davey said teasingly.

“God bless America,” Jack shot back, chuckling.


	75. Daddy Issues

That night, Jack had trouble sleeping, which we all know certainly wasn’t unusual, but it was still exhausting and annoying. He’d fall asleep, and then wake up again about an hour later, then be stuck awake for a good while, then sleep again, which is about the worst way to spend the night, when all you want is to just pass out. When he woke up at four-eighteen, he couldn’t get back to sleep again, and after almost two hours of staring at the ceiling, he gave up and decided to go downstairs. Maybe a change of scenery would make him sleepier.

He made his way down to the living room, flopped onto the couch, and pulled out his phone to scroll aimlessly through the Instagram his friends had forced him to make a while back. It was supposed to be for his art, but he had only posted a couple times. Mostly, he just followed other artists. It was a weird mix of inspiring and depressing to see other people’s work. Both new artists and established names, everyone had such amazing work, and it was wonderful, but a part of Jack worried he’d never be able to compete.

Great. Now he was anxious  _ and _ tired.

Jack was trying to decide if he had the guts to go and try and figure out the Jacobs’ coffee maker when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He sat up quickly and turned to see Mayer on his way downstairs.

“Oh.” Mayer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw Jack. “Good morning, Jack. What are you doing awake this early?”

“Morning. Sorry if I startled you,” Jack answered. “I just couldn’t sleep, so...” He shrugged.

Mayer shook his head as he passed through the room. “Don’t worry about it. Come on into the kitchen. Do you drink coffee?”

Thank God. “I do,” Jack replied, getting up to follow him. “Thank you.”

Mayer gestured for him to take a seat at the table as he retrieved two mugs from the cabinet. “Of course, son.”

‘ _ Son _ ’. At the word, Jack felt his heart take a leap that he hadn’t felt in years. He immediately felt silly, it was just a turn of phrase, but at the same time, it left him hopeful.

Mayer set a cup of coffee in front of Jack and sat across the table from him with his own.

Jack felt cripplingly awkward. He had no idea what to say, so he grasped desperately at the first thing that came to mind. “Yesterday was a lot of fun, thank you for having me here.”

“I’m very glad you could come.” Mayer smiled and took a sip of his coffee. As he set the mug back down, he cleared his throat. “Jack, I owe you an apology for Saturday.”

Jack looked up at him, mildly surprised.

“I don’t suppose you can understand, because you’re not a parent,” Mayer continued. “You think you know everything about your kids, and then you find out your little boy’s been hiding something like this from you. Well...” He shook his head. “It feels a lot like a failure. But as I’m sure you know, my real failure was the other night, meeting you.”

Jack frowned slightly, more confused than anything. “I’m not sure I follow, sir.”

“I’m afraid I was unkind to you, Jack, and more than that, I was unkind to my son,” Mayer clarified.

“Oh, right.” Jack stopped short of excusing remarks like ‘I’m sure you were just surprised’ or ‘everyone handles things differently’. If the man wanted to apologize, Jack was going to let him, and good for him, taking responsibility for his mildly homophobic reaction.

“Esther feels the same way,” Mayer told Jack. “We’re sorry.”

“Well, I certainly appreciate you saying so. Thank you.”

Mayer smiled again. “You seem like a good guy, Jack. You seem good for David.”

Jack smiled as well. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.”

“You don’t have to call me sir, son,” Mayer chuckled. “You’re a grown man. I’m not your boss.”

Jack chuckled.  _ No, you’re definitely more intimidating than that _ . “Right, sorry.”

“Trust me, if my mother’s only complaint about you is that you didn’t happen to be born Jewish, you’ve made a decent impression.”

He laughed at this. “Glad to hear it.”

They continued to make idle chit-chat in the kitchen until Mayer had to go to work. To say Jack was relieved would have been an understatement. He’d been down this road before—meeting a new family, desperate to make a good impression and to be wanted—but somehow, this time had higher stakes. He’d made his peace with never having a proper family, but he wasn’t about to let  _ anything _ stop him from keeping Davey.

* * *

Jack’s train back to Manhattan didn’t leave until late in the evening, but he and Davey left a few hours early. They ended up wandering around the local shopping mall, getting an early dinner at the food court, and generally making up for all the shitty, high school, mall dates Davey never had.

“When’s the last time you were at a shopping mall?” he asked. “I don’t think I’ve been since I was, like, fourteen.” He frowned. “Have you ever been to a shopping mall? Like, to actually shop and buy things? What is your relationship to the concept of a shopping mall?”

Jack laughed. “I was orphaned and homeless, babe, I didn’t grow up under a rock. Yes, I’ve been to a shopping mall. Granted I got thrown out, but what can ya do?”

“Why? What did you do?”

He shrugged. “Typical homeless boy stuff—shoplifting, begging, trying to find somewhere to hide and spend the night.”

Davey cringed. “Shit.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Jack assured him. “An old lady bought me a pretzel.”

“You know, you seem like you would have been a Hot Topic kind of kid.”

He laughed again. “Sorry to disappoint; I never had much of an emo phase.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Davey teased, nudging him in the side. “An artsy guy like yourself.”

“Since when is Hot Topic ‘artsy’?”

“Since when are artists not full of pain and angst all the time?”

“Okay, fair enough.”

They came to a stop at a crossroads. “Where to, now?” Davey asked.

Jack shrugged. “What was your favorite, as a kid?”

Davey laughed. “Barnes and Noble.”

“ _ Nerd! _ ” Jack accused, laughing as well.

“You love it,” Davey shot back. He put an arm around Jack’s waist and leaned into his shoulder.

“I love  _ you _ ,” Jack corrected.

“Of course. I’m a delight. Now where do you want to go?”

“Uhh, what about that one?” Jack pointed to a store, seemingly at random.

Davey raised his eyebrows. “Claire’s?”

“Maybe I need new earrings.”

“Your ears aren’t pierced!”

“They might be someday!” Jack argued, already heading towards the brightly colored storefront.

“Jack!” Davey called after him, but when Jack paid him no mind, he reluctantly followed.

“It’s like a unicorn threw up in here,” Jack said, once Davey joined him at a rack of earrings shaped like sparkly foods with faces.

“Jack, this store is for little girls.”

“It’s got rainbows and stuff;” Jack pointed out, waving vaguely around, “we belong.”

Davey rolled his eyes, smiling in amusement.

Jack picked out a pair of earrings—little, glittery pineapples—and held them up towards Davey’s ear. “I think you’d be pretty with these.”

Davey gasped in mock offense, batting his hand away. “You don’t think I’m pretty without them?”

Jack laughed. “Well, pretti _ er _ .”

“Rude!”

“Which would be good for me?” Jack asked, ignoring his complaint.

Davey huffed, but turned to the rack of earring anyway, eventually finding a coordinating—not matching—set of a paintbrush and a palette. “These.” He handed them to Jack.

Jack laughed and made a face. “Ew, pick something less predictable.”

“Fine.” Davey put the paint-themed set back and retrieved a pair of cartoonish whales. “How about these, to represent the size of your ego?”

Jack burst into laughter.

“‘Ooh, I’m an artist, pick something less predictable, I’m not like all the other boys’,” Davey mocked, and Jack laughed harder. Davey returned the whale earrings to the rack, fighting off laughter himself. It wasn’t that he thought he was particularly funny, it’s that it was physically hard not to laugh when someone else was laughing, especially when that someone was his dumbass boyfriend.

“Man, maybe I  _ should _ get my ears pierced,” Jack snickered. “I think those would really suit me.”

“Crutchie would kill me if I sent you back home with two extra holes in your head.”

“He might think it’s cool!”

“Why don’t we get you a tiara or something instead?” Davey suggested, taking Jack’s hand and pulling him away from the earrings.

Jack laughed again. “Oh, so now I’m a princess?”

Davey grinned. “You’ve always been our princess.”

“I always thought  _ I’d _ be the knight in shining armor, but I guess that’s you,” Jack teased.

“No, you’re the unicorn, and I’m your sugar daddy.”

“Shit, I’d forgotten that.”

The truth was, Davey had forgotten it as well, but they had just come up on a rack full of unicorn-themed everything, and it had jogged his memory. He picked up a unicorn headband, adorned with ears and a horn, and placed it on Jack’s head.

“Am I pretty, daddy?” Jack asked sweetly, bringing his hands up in a wide ‘V’ under his chin to frame his face. A nearby mother who was shopping with her young daughter snorted and covered her mouth to stop her laughter, and Jack shot her a dazzling grin before turning his attention back to Davey.

“You’re something, alright,” Davey deadpanned.

Jack gasped, feigning hurt. “Rude.”

“It’s just not practical for every day!” Davey grabbed a unicorn bracelet instead. “How about this?”

Jack shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think it’d fit over my hand.”

“It’s stretchy,” Davey pointed out, stretching it to show him.

“Is it stretchy  _ enough? _ ” Jack extended his hand towards Davey anyway.

“Of course it’s stretchy enough. What—do you think you have mammoth hands or something?” Davey slid the bracelet onto Jack’s wrist.

“No, I think I’m not a six year old girl.”

“You’re the one who wanted to come in here.”

“I’m an  _ artist _ , remember?” he pointed out, overemphasizing the word ‘artist’. “I saw shiny colors, and I couldn’t resist.”

Davey laughed. This was fun. This was really, genuinely fun, just the two of them.

“Okay if I’m a unicorn, then we gotta find you ‘daddy’ stuff, so we’re coordinated.”

Davey cringed. “Oh...no.”

“Oh yes.” Jack grinned deviously, already scanning the racks nearby. “They’ve gotta have ‘daddy-daughter’ stuff somewhere.”

“Jack, no.”

He stopped and turned to look back at Davey, asking with quiet sincerity, “Actually no, or are we still playing?”

Davey frowned. “What—” Then realization dawned, and he just about passed out from the sheer force of Jack’s constant consideration. “I’m playing, Jack.”

Jack nodded, grinning again, and resumed his hunt for ‘daddy’ paraphernalia. This proved to be harder than he thought, as he couldn’t find much more than a necklace with a charm proclaiming, ‘Daddy’s Girl’.

“They’ve gotta know,” Davey sighed. “They’ve gotta know, when they make stuff like this...”

Jack nodded in agreement, picking the necklace up anyway. “It’s probably why this is all they have, though this is bad enough on its own.” He unclasped the necklace, moving around behind Davey to put it on him. “We can break off the ‘s’ and the ‘girl’.”

“You’re out of control.”

“And you’re the prettiest daddy I’ve ever had.” Jack paused, and Davey could practically hear his contemplative frown as he continued. “Actually, you’re the  _ only _ daddy I’ve ever had.”

“I’m honored,” he conceded, only moments before catching a glimpse of them in a nearby mirror—him in a ‘Daddy’s Girl’ necklace, and Jack in an assortment of unicorn paraphernalia—and burst into laughter so hard he collapsed.

For a moment Jack was concerned, but then he saw the mirror, and was laughing as well. Davey curled up into a happy little ball of shame and wiped at his watering eyes.

Jack crouched down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, giggling. “You okay, daddy?”

Davey curled up into a tighter happy little ball of shame, and Jack snickered, poking lightly at his ribs.

“I’m sorry, am I  _ embarrassing _ you?” he teased.

“You’re embarrassing yourself!” Davey shot back, kicking at his knees.

“I ain’t embarrassed!” Jack laughed.

“You should be.”

“You’re the one with the ‘daddy’ necklace, I’m just a unicorn.”

Davey pulled himself up off the floor and removed said ‘daddy’ necklace, returning it to its rightful place on the hanger. “We’re being obnoxious.”

“Whatever you say, daddy.” Jack stepped out of sight, presumably to put back his unicorn stuff.

Davey smiled apologetically at the nearby mom, but she just scrunched up her face and shook her head in that ‘don’t worry about’ it way. Her daughter clearly wasn’t paying attention anyway, far too enthralled with a wall of shiny necklaces.

“Hey, Dave?” Jack spoke from behind him.

“Hm?” He turned around just in time to see Jack go down on one knee and hold up a small, dark blue—no, purple—oh god, it was a mood ring. 

“Davey Jacobs, will you do me the honor—”

Davey was laughing before Jack could finish.

“What—no, come on!” Jack was struggling not to laugh himself.

“You’re really going to fake propose to me in a Claire’s with a kids’ mood ring?”

“Davey Jacobs!” he tried again louder, still fighting back laughter. “Will you do me the honor—”

“It’s a mood ring.”

“Shut up,” Jack chuckled, standing up and grabbing Davey’s left hand.

Davey rolled his eyes, but let Jack take his hand anyway.

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’,” Jack pointed out, attempting to put the ring on Davey’s finger, but it was much too small.

“You didn’t even ask me anything!” Davey protested. “You just said, ‘Davey Jacobs, will you do me the honor...’”

With an eye roll heavy enough to carry his upper body around with it, Jack crashed back down onto one knee, but didn’t let go of Davey’s hand, and asked in a loud rush. “Davey Jacobs will you do me the honor of being my whatever’s between boyfriend and fiancé?”

“Is there anything between boyfriend and fiancé?”

“Are you going to be this difficult when I do it for real?” he shot back with a loving scowl.

“I don’t expect so.”

“How about...Boyfriend Mark Two?”

Davey chuckled. “Okay, Jack. It would be  _ my _ honor to be your Boyfriend Mark Two.”

Jack beamed, standing up again, and after a few seconds of struggle, gave up trying to put the mood ring on Davey’s ring finger and put it on his pinky instead.

Davey smiled. “Well, you need one, too.” He picked another one off the shelf and put it on Jack’s left pinky finger.

Jack snickered and pulled out his phone with his free hand. “Hang on, I wanna send Crutchie a picture.” He opened Snapchat and angled the phone so they were both in the frame. “Put your hand on my shoulder or something dumb and cute,” Jack suggested, “so he can see the ring.”

Davey reached across Jack’s body and linked their fingers together like a pinky-promise, pulling them up into the frame. Grinning like a goddamn idiot, Jack took the picture, captioned it ‘he didn’t say no’, and sent it to Crutchie.

Davey chuckled, leaning his head on Jack’s shoulder. “Are we buying these?” he asked, wiggling their still-joined hands.

“They’re three bucks apiece...” Jack replied, and Davey wasn’t sure if he meant that was a lot, or not very much.

“I’ll buy them,” Davey offered, “as a ‘thank you’ for dealing with my family this weekend.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—” Jack said quickly.

“It’s okay,” Davey interrupted. “I have six dollars.”

Jack smiled sheepishly. “Guess I picked the right sugar daddy, after all.”

A reply from Crutchie buzzed in on Jack’s phone, and he opened it, moving so Davey could see, too. A small video looped—Race was running through Jack and Crutchie’s apartment, excitedly screaming, and Crutchie shouted. “It’s the wrong finger, dumbass!”—with the caption, ‘my whole day is ruined’.

“Well,” Davey smiled at Jack, “at least you have that to look forward to, when you get back, tonight.”

Jack groaned, clearly amused.

Davey noticed the time on Jack’s phone. They still had about an hour before they needed to leave. “You wanna go to Barnes and Noble and read kids’ books?”

Jack looked at him skeptically. “‘S that something you do a lot?”

“What—read?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, loiter in the kids section of Barnes and Noble.”

“Jack, you dragged me into a  _ Claire’s _ .”

Jack held his hands up in surrender, shrugging. “A’right, let’s go.”

* * *

For the most part, Jack didn’t actually read any of the kids’ books that Davey shoved into his hands. Mostly, he watched Davey read, or made Davey read aloud to him, and simply delighted in watching him enjoy something so dumb and wholesome. After an hour-ish, they had to leave for the train station, and after another twenty minutes of Jack making Davey laugh by belting classic rock as badly as he could, they arrived.

“I am a  _ fantastic _ singer,” Jack insisted as he unbuckled. “I dunno what you’re complaining about.”

“I’m sure you are, when you’re not trying to imitate Gene Simmons,” Davey retorted.

“Excuse you, I was spot on.”

Davey snickered as they headed into the station, and Jack tried not to feel sad. It wasn’t that bad; Davey would be coming back for school in a few weeks. It was fine.

“Hey,” Davey said gently, taking his hand. “I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

“You gonna come jump me at work again?” Jack teased.

“Please,” Davey scoffed. “You think I’m not going to see you for your birthday, now that I know it?”

Jack laughed. “You don’t need to make a big fuss or anything.”

“Did I say I was going to make a big fuss?

“Well, no, but I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Well, now that you’ve seen what my mom’s parties are like, I suppose I’m not surprised.” Davey smiled. “Thanks for coming.”

“Glad to be there, a’ course.”

He pressed a short, sweet kiss to Jack’s lips. “Don’t miss your train.”

Jack hummed. “I’m gonna miss  _ you _ though.”

“Two weeks,” Davey promised.

“Two weeks,” Jack repeated with a smile, and he shouldered his duffle bag. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Davey held up his left pinky finger with his mood ring.

Jack laughed. Every time he thought he couldn’t possibly love Davey more... He hooked his own left pinky with Davey’s. “Is this a thing we do, now?”

“Why not?”

With a chuckle, Jack used their joined fingers to pull Davey’s hand closer so he could press a kiss to the back of his knuckles. “I love you.”

“You’ve said.” Davey smirked.

“Well, it’s true.”

Davey kissed his lips again, and Jack moved to wrap his arms around him as he kissed back. It didn’t last long, but it was good all the same.

“Bye, love,” Davey said quietly. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll text you when I get home, so you know I didn’t die,” Jack offered, heading for the platform.

“Thank you.”

The train doors opened then, and a small crowd of people disembarked. Jack waved to Davey one more time before he got on, and went to find a seat.

Just two weeks—that wasn’t that bad.


	76. Don't Get Sex Ed from the Internet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davey and Jack both get stuck in awkward situations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, like, this chapter involves talk of underage sex and several overly-dramatic threats of suicide...but if you've made it this far, do I really have to warn you about these things?

“I’m sorry,” Sarah began, and thank god she did, because Davey was too busy gaping in horror. “You want us to do what?”

“I just want you to talk to him,” their mother insisted. “We think he’ll be more comfortable talking about this with his brother and sister than with his mom and dad.”

“He’s fourteen! Not even!”

Davey cringed, knowing that he hadn’t been all that much older when he started...you know...and he really could have used a talk like this from someone who loved him.

“He’s already had three proper girlfriends,” Esther pointed out. “If anything, this is overdue.”

“If our baby brother is sexually active, I’ll kill myself,” Sarah said. Davey firmly agreed with the sentiment.

Esther sighed. “Sarah don’t be so dramatic.”

“What makes you think he’ll talk to  _ us? _ ” Davey asked.

“You all told each other everything growing up!” she reasoned.

_ No, we did not _ , he thought.

“I’m not saying have  _ the talk _ with him or anything. Your father and I have had that conversation with him. I just want to know if there’s anything we need to be worried about, or if we need to buy him condoms or something.”

“I never want to talk about Les and condoms in the same conversation,” Davey mumbled lifelessly.

His mother scoffed. “Your father and I had Les and condoms in the same conception. Suck it up.”

Sarah sputtered into shocked laughter.

“You don’t have to be direct,” Esther tried again. “Just try and get him to give you a hint or something.”

Davey relented. “Okay, okay, we’ll talk to him.”

As soon as they got into the hallway, Sarah quietly said. “So we’re just gonna not, and say he wouldn’t tell us, right?”

Davey sighed. “I don’t know, Sarah. She kind of has a point.”

Sarah cringed. “Ugh, you’re about to be all reasonable and responsible, aren’t you?”

“That is the role I play in this family,” he confirmed.

She groaned. “Fine.”

They headed up to Les’ room. The door was open, and Les was sitting on his bed, messing around on his phone. He looked up as they walked in.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Davey took a seat on the end of his bed. “We wanted to talk. You know, you’re starting high school next month, and—”

“Are you having sex?” Sarah cut in bluntly.

Les’ eyes widened, and he stammered.

Davey sighed heavily. “We just wanna know so we can make sure you have what you need. If you are.”

“Oh my God, did Mom put you up to this?” Les asked.

“Yes,” Sarah told him.

He groaned. “Well I’m not, so can you tell her to get off my back?”

“Are you planning to?” Davey asked. “Thinking about it?”

“I dunno, eventually? Doesn’t everybody?”

“Not  _ everybody _ , no.”

Les waved dismissively. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s really not a big deal, Les,” Sarah said. “Mom and Dad just want to know if you need condoms.”

Les groaned again, louder. “I don’t want to hear ‘Mom and Dad’ and ‘condoms’ in the same sentence.”

Sarah snorted, and Davey smacked at her shoulder.

“Okay, well, um...” Davey took a deep breath. He couldn’t believe he was about to ask his little brother this. “Do you know how to use one, if...if you ever need to?”

“You know we get taught sex ed in school, right?”

“I’m just checking!”

“Besides,” Sarah added, “there’s a lot of stuff they don’t teach you in sex ed.”

“Well yeah, that’s what the internet is for,” Les replied, and Sarah rolled her eyes.

“ _ Please _ don’t get sex ed from the internet,” Davey begged.

“Better than from my siblings!” Les protested.

“Too bad,” Sarah said. “I’m gonna quiz you. The weird little nipple thing on the condom goes towards or away from the dick?”

“Oh my god,” Davey exhaled, covering his face with his hands.

“I dunno, towards?” Les guessed.

Davey cringed. “Shit.”

“No. Wrong. Incorrect.” Sarah really wanted to hammer this point home, apparently. “See? This is the type of thing you should learn in sex ed. Didn’t they have you put condoms on bananas or something?”

Les groaned some more. “Yeah, no one said anything about which way it was supposed to face.”

“I’m not ready to be an uncle,” Davey whined, trying to find some humor in this situation.

“Shut up!” Les sat up to throw his pillow at Davey.

“Question number two!” Sarah shouted over the dull  _ thwump _ of the pillow hitting and lightly wrapping around her twin’s face. “What is a dental dam and what is it for?”

“It’s like a condom for oral, right?”

“Praise Jesus!”

“We are  _ Jewish _ .”

“Question three—not that you should be drinking any time soon, but—can drunk people consent?”

Davey let out the heaviest sigh of the day, and that was saying something. Sarah gave him a funny look for half a second.

“Nope,” Les replied, popping the ‘p’ in ‘nope’.

(Andy: As opposed to: “Nope,” Les replied, popping the ‘p’ in ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’.

Bee: shut your face)

Davey leaned in towards Sarah and whispered, “I’m still confused about how he knows what a dental dam is but not how to put on a condom.”

“He’s a closeted lesbian,” Sarah whispered back.

Just then, Davey’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and let out a sigh of relief. Saved, as usual, by Spot Conlon. He swiped the message open.

“ _ I just broke up with Race _ …”

* * *

“What would you think of Dave moving in with us?” Jack asked Crutchie absently as he died on level six of Portal 2 for the fourth time in a row. “Not right now, obviously, but like, eventually.”

“I sort of figured it was an eventuality,” Crutchie said, “unless you wanted to live with him alone.”

Jack frowned a bit. It had somehow never occurred to him that one day he and Crutchie wouldn’t live together. “Is that an okay eventuality, or...?”

“Yeah, of course.” Crutchie frowned contemplatively. “Well, until you get married or something. I’m not gonna third wheel on that.”

“Oh come on, you’re not gonna call off our laser tag themed wedding!”

He rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jack’s phone lit up with a text from Davey himself, and he picked it up off the coffee table, swiping the message open.

“ _ Warning. Spot just texted me. He broke up with Race _ .”

“Oh god,” Jack murmured apprehensively.

On cue, there was a loud, heavy  _ thud _ against the front door and a pathetic wail.

Jack cringed. “Here we go.” He got up, dropping his phone and controller onto the coffee table, and crossed the room to open the door.

“What? What’s going on?” Crutchie asked, not nearly as startled as one should have been.

“Dave says Spot dumped Race,” Jack explained, twisting the handle of the door.

As soon as he did, the door swung open, pushed by Race’s entire weight slumped against it. Race crashed to the floor, crying like a toddler who just fell off the slide at a playground and skinned his knees.

“Oh, no.” Crutchie grabbed his cane, stood up, and started over.

Jack sighed and crouched down. “Hey, Racer.”

“Leave me alone to die!” Race sobbed, curling up into the fetal position.

Jack chuckled wanly. “Well, you came to the wrong place to be alone.”

“Why don’t you come to the couch?” Crutchie suggested gently.

“What’s the use of the couch if I’m gonna  _ die alone!? _ ” Race wailed, and Jack rolled his eyes.

“You’re not gonna die alone, stupid. Come on.”

“Besides,” Crutchie pointed out, “weren’t you just asking to be left alone to die?”

“I don’t  _ want _ to die alone, but I’m  _ gonna _ , ‘cause I’m an  _ idiot _ ,” Race explained.

Crutchie sighed, “Okay. Jack, pick him up and take him to the couch? I’ll get the pretzels—”

“I don’t want pretzels, I want Spot!” Race cried, bursting into another round of tears.

Jack looked at Crutchie much like he would if the microwave spontaneously caught on fire, and Crutchie mirrored his expression.

Jack cleared his throat. “A’right, no pretzels, I guess.”

Still crouching, he grabbed Race’s arm and pulled him into a sitting position before pulling Race’s arm over his shoulders and wrapping his other arm around Race’s middle. With little effort, he pulled Race to his feet and half dragged, half carried him to the couch. Race collapsed face-first into one of Crutchie’s decorative pillows, still wailing like a murdered child’s ghost.

Jack took a spot perching on the back of the couch. “What happened?”

He knew Spot dumped him, of course, but it was hard to try and help with zero context. Of course, Race didn’t know what Jack knew, so he started with, “Spot dumped me.”

“I’m sorry, man. That sucks.”

Race rolled over onto his back. His face was all red and puffy from crying, and he had almost definitely gotten snot all over the pillow. “Don’t you guys have any alcohol in this house?”

Jack sighed quietly. “Yeah. You wanna come pick your poison, or should I just grab whatever?”

“Gimme the strongest stuff you got.”

Jack nodded, “Capri Sun, you got it,” and headed to the kitchen to grab the bottle of Jack Daniels—purchased solely because Crutchie thought it was funny to have alcohol with the same name as Jack—off the top of the fridge. Race made grabby hands towards it as Jack made his way back into the living room, as he handed it over. It was less than half full anyway, so he wasn’t  _ overly _ concerned. He’d seen Race make it through worse just fine.

Race knocked it back, immediately choking on it, but somehow managing to continue drinking anyway.

“Don’t die,” Jack deadpanned, resuming his perch on the back of the couch.

Race finally swallowed and took a breath. “Why not?” he whined. “I have nothing to live for, anyway.”

Crutchie rolled his eyes heavily.

Jack did the same. “You got plenty to live for, Racer.”

“Bullshit!” Race huffed. “I ruin everything I touch.”

“Not  _ everything _ ,” Crutchie argued.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, “Crutchie was broken well before you came along.” Crutchie smacked at him, and Jack held his hands up in surrender.

“What he  _ means _ is you helped us out a lot when we were kid,” Crutchie amended. “You have a lotta good to put into the world.”

Race grumbled nonsense, taking another swig of Jack Daniels.

“Plus,” Jack teased, “we sorta like having you around.”

Race winced and sobbed. “Spot doesn’t.”

Jack winced as well. “Is that what he said?”

“Well, not exactly, but he dumped me.”

“What did he say?”

Race groaned, setting the bottle down on the coffee table and curling up on his side. “That he ‘can’t do this anymore’, he’s ‘tired of being used’, and he ‘doesn’t want to be anyone’s second choice’.”

Jack reached down to settle a hand on his shoulder in an attempt at comfort.

Race sniffled. “I have to get him back.”

Jack was a bit surprised. “Why? Not to be a dick, but I thought he was just, like, a distraction?”

“He was! And then he wasn’t...”

Jack sighed quietly. Figures Race would’ve caught feelings and then not done anything about it. “I hate to say it, Racer, but it might be best for both of you to let him go. You guys didn’t have the healthiest relationship...”

Race rolled his eyes. “Easy for  _ you _ to say; you’re practically engaged to your soulmate and everything is peaches and rainbows.”

Jack sighed again. “A week or two ago I asked you how it was going with Spot, and you said ‘like sexy elevator music’. I still don’t know quite what that means, but it doesn’t sound great.”

“Well, that was a week or two ago!” Race protested. “Now, I love him and want to be with him forever and I have to get him back!”

Jack stifled a groan. Race was a good kid, one of his best friends, but he was as fickle as a person could be.

Luckily, Crutchie stepped in to diffuse the situation. “We know, Race, but you at least have to give him a little time to cool off, first.”

Jack nodded. “Anything you tried now would just start a fight.”

“So really,” Crutchie continued, “step one to getting Spot back is giving him a breather.”

Race protested with a loud, wordless whine, and Jack rubbed his shoulder consolingly. He knew there was no proper helping, just weathering the storm, and trying to keep Race out of any potentially destructive trouble. Not that Jack was too worried about the guy who once announced he was going to ‘hang himself off the fire escape’ because the dining hall was out of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, but it was better to be safe than sorry, anyway.


	77. Shenannygans Chapter Seven: A Nice Night at the Drive-In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now back to our regularly scheduled programming. (:

“Alright ma’am, that’ll be five hundred dollars and seventy two cents, because movie snacks are super overpriced,” Jack told Mei, sitting in the cardboard box that they had declared the concession stand. She handed him five folded up scraps of paper that she’d scribbled green on earlier, a soda bottle cap, and a small rock. Jack nodded and handed her a little bowl of popcorn and a sippy cup with chocolate milk.

Jack had set up a drive-in movie for the Larkin kids in the backyard—laundry hampers for cars, a cardboard box concession stand, and Big Hero Six projected on the side of the house. Now, Jack’s reaction to finding out the Larkins owned a movie projector may have been a little embarrassing, but it was already in the past and did not need to be noted anymore. There may have been bouncing involved. Who’s to say? What was important was that it was a lot more fun to watch a movie in the backyard than in the living room.

Mei curled up in her laundry basket Ferrari—Chris has taken their label maker and labeled it ‘Ferrari’—with her chocolate milk and popcorn, giggling adorably.

Jack smiled, pleased that the kids seemed to be enjoying his idea, and grabbed his own bowl of popcorn. “Everyone ready to start?” he called.

Chris and Jackson nodded.

“Alright, then here we go.” Jack held an imaginary speaker to his mouth, and spoke in a crackly tone. “Ladies and gentlemen, please silence your cell phones, as the movie is about to begin. The recording of this motion picture is strictly prohibited, and anyone engaging in rowdy behavior will be asked to leave.”

Jackson rolled his eyes, and Jack pressed play. He sat next to Catalina’s laundry basket, smiling as she gurgled happily at him. He put a finger to his lips and playfully shushed her.

Jack never bought into the idea that struggling builds character. Look at him, after all. Struggling built craftiness and bitterness, among other things, but not character. Love did that. Experience did that. The Larkin kids weren’t going to struggle. They were going to love and be loved and experience all the world had to offer. They would never have to worry about where their next meal would come from or if they’d have a safe place to sleep. Admittedly, Jack was a bit jealous, but he tried hard to ignore it and focus instead on being a part of making sure their childhoods were every bit of what he’d never had and always wanted.

About halfway through the movie, Catalina started fussing, so Jack lifted her out of the bouncy seat that he’d set in her laundry hamper earlier. He paced quietly in the back, bouncing slightly as he walked with Catalina on his hip. Jackson accused him of ‘rowdy behavior’, and Jack shushed him, chuckling. Eventually, he realized she must be hungry, so he left Chris in charge of Mei and brought her inside for a bottle.

As was often the case when taking care of the Larkin kids—especially Catalina—Jack found himself wondering happily about what his future with Davey would hold. What sort of house would they have? What would their kids look like—not like them, of course, since they’d be adopted. Jack wondered what age Davey would want to adopt. Jack wanted a baby, for sure—at least one—but he also wanted to adopt an older kid. Someone who thought they didn’t have a chance. Someone like him.

Catalina finished her bottle and promptly fell asleep in Jack’s arms. Jack smiled, and set the bottle by the edge of the sink to wash later before returning to the backyard.

* * *

It was Saturday, so it was nearly midnight by the time Medda got home, and Jack was on his way to the bus stop. He was exhausted and more than ready to go to bed. He even considered calling a cab or an Uber, but decided to suck it up. He took what was supposed to be a shortcut through a park, only to find that the park was well fenced and gated, so it ended up taking him even farther out of his way and away from the Larkin’s house as he went around it. Oh well—it was a beautiful night, completely quiet except for a couple low voices, and lord knows the Larkins lived in a nice neighborhood. Taking a breath of the cool night air—which quickly turned into a yawn—he turned down the next street

Suddenly, the voices picked up in volume. “Well, would you look at this.”

Oh, god. He recognized that voice. With a stifled groan, Jack stopped walking, and turned around. A bad choice, to be sure, but he was tired. None other than the motherfucking wonder twins were standing up from a couple of lawn chairs, beer bottles in hand. He must have walked right past them.

“What are you doing here, fag?” one of them—Morris?—spat.

“‘M going home. What are you doing here?” Jack replied.

Oscar sneered, “We live here, faggot.”

Jack let out a quiet huff. Figures. He’d have to make sure to avoid this street in the future. “Well, good for you.”

Oscar circled around him like a shark. “What brings you outta the slums? You here to steal?”

Jack sighed. He was too tired for this. “I told’ja, I’m headin’ home. Mind ya business.”

“Why were you here in the first place?”

“Well, that’s hardly your business, is it Oscar?”

“I think it is our business,” Morris said, closing in behind him. “This is our neighborhood.”

Jack hummed, turning slightly and stepping back so he could keep an eye on the both of them. “Poor neighborhood.”

Morris snarled. “Listen here, piece of shit—”

“Now now, Morris,” Jack interrupted, tired of his shit and tired in general, “that’s no way to talk to your friendly neighborhood faggot, now is it?”

As Morris cocked back a fist to punch him, it occurred to Jack that he was, in fact, alone in an unfamiliar neighborhood in the middle of the night, and there were two of them. He’d faced worse odds, but this wasn’t going to be pretty.

He managed to dodge Morris's first blow and blocked his second, but this gave Oscar an opening, and a cruel jab caught Jack right in the ribs. He exhaled roughly, staggering back a step, and Oscar took another swing, aiming for his head this time. Jack ducked quickly under his arm, stepping not-quite behind him, and shot a quick uppercut to Oscar's kidney. Oscar stumbled with an angry, pained yell and turned back towards Jack, following the momentum with a wild, ill-aimed swing of his fist. Oscar was between Jack and Morris now, and the longer Jack could keep it that way, the better. Morris moved to step around him, and Jack moved with him, jerking backwards as another swing from Oscar interrupted his step. The blow only just clipped his shoulder, and lacking a cushion to stop his momentum, Oscar was turned slightly, so Jack took the opportunity to step in and land a sharp blow to the side of his head. Unfortunately, as Oscar recoiled from the impact, his brother shoved him out of the way, and Jack had lost his shield. Retreating quickly, he didn't notice the curb behind him and tripped off the sidewalk, very nearly losing his footing. As he stumbled, Morris took one, two, three swings at him, and while Jack managed to avoid the first two, the third caught him in the side. He staggered back a step, but Morris got a hand on his shoulder and kept him from going much of anywhere. Granted, this also kept Morris from going much of anywhere, and Jack took the opportunity to drive his fist into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him and doubling him over. He then got a grip of his own on Morris's shoulder, and pulled down as he drove his knee up into his stomach. Morris dropped, though probably not for long, and Jack turned, searching for escape, but instead he found Oscar's fist, which cracked against his temple. White sparks danced across his vision. He stumbled, nearly tripping on Morris, who was getting up, and Oscar struck another heavy blow to his face, sending him reeling. At the same time, Morris grabbed Jack's leg as he took a step and yanked, ripping it out from under him, and Jack went down. He rolled to his side, trying to get up quickly, but Oscar was there, and he kicked him in the stomach. Jack choked on a breath as Oscar kicked him again, and again, each one landing sharp and heavy and forcing the air out of Jack's already empty lungs. He curled up, trying to protect himself until he had a moment to get his feet under him again, but Morris grabbed his shoulder and pulled him onto his back, forcing his guard open. Oscar kicked him in the side, just under his ribs, and Jack grunted in pain, gritting his teeth. Morris pulled him up by his shirt, not quite to a sitting position, and Jack barely had a chance to get his hands in the way as Morris cocked his arm back and let fly. Jack's attempts to block did little good as Morris punched him again, letting go of his shirt as he did so. Jack's head cracked against the pavement. The air was ringing in a dull, echoey sort of way, punctuated by bright flashes of pain as Oscar's foot connected with his ribs again. Morris was on his feet as well now, though Jack hadn't been aware of him getting up, and he brought his foot down on Jack's sternum. Jack hardly even had a chance to register what was probably a rib or three breaking before Oscar swung his foot heavily against Jack's skull, and everything was very bright, and then very dark.


	78. Wake Up Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected. My b.

Davey didn’t remember setting an alarm. He didn’t know why his alarm was going off. Did he have class? Had the entire summer so far been a final exams-induced stress dream? He rolled over and picked up his phone to disable it, only to realize when he saw the screen that this wasn’t an alarm at all, but an incoming call from ‘Charlie (Crutchie)’ at two thirty-four in the morning. He swiped to answer, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello? Crutchie? What—”

“Jack’s in the hospital,” Crutchie interrupted, sobbing.

Davey’s heart stuttered in his chest, and he sat bolt upright. “What!?”

“He’s in the hospital. Dave, I can’t— He’s—” Crutchie choked on another sob.

“What happened!?” Davey was across the room with no memory of getting there, pulling an extra pair of clothes out of his dresser.

“He’s always out late on Saturdays, for work, but then it was  _ really _ late, and he wasn’t home, and he hadn’t called,” Crutchie whimpered, “and then the police— Dave, I’ve had this nightmare, so many times, I can’t—”

Davey froze in place as a thick, heavy dread settled in his chest. “Is he alright?” he asked, and he had never been more afraid of anything than he was of the answer.

“I don’t know!” Crutchie wailed. “I’m on the bus. I’m on my way there. I don’t know. They said he’s alive, but—”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please let me know—”

“Dave, I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do. He didn’t come home, and then the cops called. I thought he’d been arrested again, but this is worse—” His voice broke, and Davey could hear the poor kid crying.

Of course, he understood. He was on the verge of tears himself, heart racing a mile a minute, as he haphazardly threw his toothbrush and toothpaste into a plastic bag and packed them in the duffel bag that had come out of nowhere. He was going through the motions without even realizing it.

On his end, Crutchie was still babbling. “They said they found him in Fieldston. Someone called about a fight, but by the time the cops got there it was just Jack. He was unconscious in the street, and there was blood, and—” Crutchie broke down crying again.

“David?” Esther’s soft voice came from the hallway. “Is everything alright?”

“I have to go to Manhattan,” Davey told her, voice shaking dangerously. “Jack’s in the hospital. I have to go.”

She gasped, appearing in the doorframe. “Oh my God, what happened?”

“Something happened on his way home from work. We don’t know. I have to  _ go _ .”

She nodded quickly. “Do you want me to drive you?”

Davey nodded back. “To the train station. Please. Crutchie?” He shifted his attention back to the boy on the other end of the line. “Crutchie, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

* * *

The last update Davey had gotten before finally arriving at the hospital was that Jack had been taken in for surgery. After talking to a receptionist, he was directed to a waiting room, where he found Crutchie. The poor kid was a wreck, eyes all red and puffy from crying and lack of sleep, hair a mess, and still wearing some rumpled pajamas. He let out a soft cry of relief when he saw Davey, and he limped quickly across the waiting room towards him. Davey met him in the middle and hugged him tightly.

“He’s in the recovery room,” Crutchie told him, hanging onto him like he was the only thing keeping him afloat. “The doctor said it went well, but he was messed up somethin’ awful,” he whimpered, starting to cry again.

Davey squeezed him even tighter and took a deep breath.  _ Recovery room _ . Recovery. That meant he was okay, right?

“We can’t see him till he gets back in the ward,” Crutchie said tearfully.

Davey nodded. It felt like all his words, the very things he could always count on, had abandoned him, and he had no idea what to say. Crutchie detached himself, sniffling, and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“He’ll be okay. He’s tough,” Davey finally managed. He wouldn’t entertain any other possibility. “Have they heard anything else? Do they have any idea who did this?”

Crutchie shook his head. “He woke up just before they took him in for surgery, but they said he wasn’t really making sense. He has a pretty bad concussion.”

Davey bit his lip hard. He couldn’t stand the thought of Jack, hurting and confused and afraid. He wanted to throw up.

Crutchie took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Doctor said he’s got six broken ribs, and a badly bruised lung. Well,  _ everything _ is badly bruised, but I guess the lung is the scary part?”

Davey was pretty stuck on ‘six broken ribs’.

Just then, a doctor walked over to them, and Crutchie looked at her with a mix of terror and hope on his face.

“He’s doing fine,” she said, and Crutchie exhaled roughly in relief. “We got his ribs all back where they’re supposed to be and put some plates in to keep them there—luckily, no major blood vessels were ruptured, and none of his organs were damaged too badly. We’re moving him back to the ward now, so you should be able to see him in a few minutes.”

* * *

The world came back into focus very suddenly, as if he’d just blinked. The last thing Jack remembered was unfamiliar voices asking him fuzzy questions and fluorescent lights flashing past on a too-white ceiling above his head. The last thing he  _ clearly _ remembered was Oscar’s foot connecting with his skull, and now he was...wherever he was. Some dim room with the curtains closed. He tried to sit up, but all that happened was a flash of pain through his torso and his head, as if someone had dropped a baby grand piano on him. He groaned in pain and shut his eyes again as his vision swam.

“Woah, hey.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he realized someone was holding his hand. After taking a second to process this, he opened his eyes again and blinked a few times to get his vision to clear. Crutchie was there, and Davey, thank god.

“Hey guys,” Jack said, and his voice came out a lot weaker and raspier than he’d expected.

Davey shushed him gently, getting to his feet. “I’m going to tell the nurses you’re awake.”

“Was I not awake before?”

“No,” Crutchie said. “You just came out of surgery.”

“Oh.” Jack frowned, trying again—and failing—to sit up.

“Stay down,” Crutchie said as Davey ducked out of the room. “You’re hurt.”

Jack grunted. “Fuck. Am I in a hospital?” He could tell he was being stupid, but his head felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton balls, and it made thinking very difficult.

Crutchie exhaled shakily. “Yeah, this is a hospital.”

Jack nodded, and he immediately regretted it as another wave of nausea and dizziness surged through him.

Crutchie wiped Jack’s hair off his forehead. “What happened, Jack? Who did this?”

Before he could answer, Davey came back with a nurse.

“Mr. Kelly,” the nurse said, “how are you feeling?”

“Like someone took a blender to my insides,” he replied through a wince.

“I’ll talk to the doctor about getting you something more for the pain.”

“Can we do anything about my head?” he asked, only thinking to clarify a second or two later. “It’s hard to concentrate.”

“That’ll get better as the anesthesia keeps wearing off,” the nurse told him.

“Great,” Jack replied, wishing it would wear off faster.

The nurse left, and Davey took his hand again.

Jack offered him a weak smile. “Hey, Davey.”

“Hey.” Davey smiled back. “You gave me quite a wake-up call, this morning.”

Jack cringed. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Davey shook his head, “no, don’t be sorry.”

Jack frowned. “Wait, you live, like...three hours away...”

“I came as fast as I could.”

Jack looked around the room for a clock, and spotted one on the bedside table. Seven a.m.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Have either of you slept?”

“I haven’t,” Crutchie confessed. “Dave was asleep, when I called.”

Jack felt a stab of guilt, along with the frankly staggering amount of pain from just...everything. “I’m sorry, Crutchie...”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“Too bad,” he muttered.

Crutchie sighed, then leaned down to kiss Jack’s forehead. “I’m just glad you’re alright,” he said, voice cracking slightly.

“Hey, hey,” Jack protested. “It’ll take more ‘n the likes of the Delancey brudders to kill me.”

Davey looked like he’d seen a ghost. “What?”

Jack turned to look at him, and it occurred to him then, like the addled idiot he was, that they had no way of knowing what had happened. “Uh, yeah. Turns out Oscar an’ Morris live just a few streets away from Medda’s. I was walkin’ to the bus stop, an’ I walked right past ‘em.”

“So they beat you!?” Crutchie asked.

“I mean, they called me a faggot a few times first, so I guess I antagonized ‘em a little...”

“Oh my god. My god…” Davey looked like he was going to throw up. “I’m so sorry.”

Jack frowned at him. “For what?” He knew what Davey was sorry for, but he didn’t want him to feel at fault. It  _ wasn’t _ his fault. “You got nothin’ to do with this.”

“They never would have gone after you, if it wasn’t for me,” Davey said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jack admonished. “This ain’t your fault.”

“I don’t care about  _ fault _ . You have six broken ribs!”

He blinked. That was a lot. “Six?”

“Six,” Crutchie confirmed. “Jack, they were trying to kill you.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, frowning down at the thin hospital blanket.

Davey shook his head, shock still evident. “I never thought they’d go this far…”

“Hey, I’m okay,” Jack assured him, squeezing his hand gently, and somehow even just doing  _ that _ hurt.

Davey cupped his cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jack mumbled. “ _ Both _ of you.”

“Of course we’re here, we love you,” Davey said.

“I love you, too.”

“Are you...” He hesitated for a moment. “Are you going to press charges?”

Jack frowned, scoffing. “We can’t afford a lawsuit.” Then, horrifying realization dawned, and he looked at Crutchie. “Christ, how are we gonna afford  _ this? _ ”

“You don’t have to,” a familiar voice came from the doorway.

Jack looked around quickly, and deeply regretted the fast motion, due to the surge of dizzy nausea that came with it. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he was greeted by the sight of the one and only Miss Medda Larkin in the doorway.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” she said. “I’ve got it covered, baby.”

He was still too fuzzy to have much of a filter, so he blurted out, “What the hell are  _ you _ doing here!?”

“He’s medicated,” Crutchie explained quickly.

Medda just chuckled. “It’s fine.” She told Jack, “Your brother called me to let me know you wouldn’t be coming in to work, this morning.”

Shit, work. He couldn’t afford to miss work, recovering from an attempted murder or no.

“Now, I can see you worrying, as if I’m not gonna take care of you,” Medda admonished him. “Nobody, and I mean  _ nobody _ messes with my kids. I know a good lawyer; I can get in touch—”

“Hang on, I couldn’t take your money, Miss Medda,” Jack interrupted.

She waved him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. After everything you’ve done for us?”

“Wh— I just been doin’ my job...”

“‘Doin’ his job’,” Medda teased Davey and Crutchie. “As if he ain’t been a big brother to my kids from day one.”

Crutchie smiled proudly. “Just doin’ what he does best, ma’am.”

“He’s always taking care of others,” Davey smiled sadly at Jack, “not so much himself.”

“Heeey,” Jack protested, “no fair, ‘f you’re all gonna gang up on me.”

Medda stepped up to his bedside and gently touched his shoulder. “Don’t worry about money, baby. Someone hurt you on your way home from  _ my _ house. I’ll take care of the hospital bills, and if you want to press charges, I’ll take care of that, too.”

A mix of relief, gratefulness, guilt, and the familiar shame of not having enough to take care of himself filled Jack’s chest, and he attempted a smile. “Thank you,” he said, and he really meant it.

“Don’t even mention it,” she replied. “You’re with Medda, now.”


End file.
